


Same Face, Different Man

by AussieWriter1



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, Underbelly
Genre: Crossover between Miss Fisher and Underbelly, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieWriter1/pseuds/AussieWriter1
Summary: Notorious gangster Henry Stokes discovers there's an Inspector in the Victoria Police Force that shares his face. Unfortunately for him, Miss Phryne Fisher knows the Inspector well, and no imposter can escape her deduction.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Henry Stokes, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 57
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So I binged Miss Fisher about a month ago, and have been thinking about it ever since (I also can't wait for my current university semester to be over so I can do a rewatch haha). But the other day I watched Nathan Page's scenes as Henry Stokes in the old Australian TV show Underbelly: Squizzy, and had the idea for a scene in which Stokes and Phryne come face-to-face. Then the next day, that one scene expanded into an outline that is over 3000 words and spans nine chapters. Oops.
> 
> Just a disclaimer before we begin - while there's pretty much no swearing in Miss Fisher, there's plenty of it in Underbelly. I've scaled it back, but it's still there when Stokes is around, so my apologies for that. Also, you'll quickly notice that Stokes' wife, Annie, isn't in this fic. I tried to work out how to include her, but it just didn't work. So for the purposes of this fic, Stokes is single. I've tried to be careful in how accurate the story is, as Henry Stokes was a real guy, but that and a couple other liberties had to be taken. I hope you can understand and forgive me.
> 
> One final note - this takes place after Underbelly, and between 'Game, Set, and Murder' and 'Death Do Us Part'. Now, onto the show!

**Sunday, 3rd November, 1929**

The sounds of the rambunctious crowd, earning and losing money in equal measure, just beyond the curtains that separated his office from the main bar and gambling tables brought calm to Henry Stokes’ turbulent thoughts. It was only a few months ago that he was once again brought before a jury, and almost taken away from this place. But there was no jury, no lawyer who could lock him up. He was untouchable. Although there had been rumours circulating that troubled him more than he would ever admit. Rumours that the police were once again looking his way, determined to make an allegation stick this time.

Stokes calmed somewhat when he remembered that he had gotten away with blowing up a rival two-up school with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. And before that, with the shooting of Long Harry Slater in 1921. That had only gotten him a six-month sentence followed by a banishment from Victoria. Like that would have ever stuck. It took him no time at all to smuggle himself back into the city and take control of his empire back from Squizzy Taylor. Ah, Taylor. Stokes hadn’t thought about the slippery man much since his death two years prior, in 1927. He had been a powerful ally, but Stokes had never truly trusted him. He was too ambitious for his own good. And it had gotten the better of him, in the end. Meanwhile, here he sat - alive, well, and free. 

Admittedly, Stokes wasn’t naive enough to believe that things would never change. Over the years he had learnt to always sleep with one eye open. The minute he relaxed, the minute he assumed he was safe, some stupid copper gunning for a promotion would come and cause havoc. He’d had enough of the fucking police and their interference. These new rumours only served to heighten his anger. He knew he had to stay one step ahead, but beyond that, he was unfortunately at a loss. Sure, coppers could be paid off. He had more than enough of them in his pocket, but none were close to where the rumours were coming from. He didn’t want to have to resort to recruiting more - it could send a message that he was worried, scared even, and treating the rumours with more respect than they deserved. There had to be a solution, somewhere.

“Sorry to bother ya boss, but I got something ya should see.”

Stokes opened his eyes to see one of his henchmen waiting at the edge of the curtain. He waved the man closer while removing his feet from his desk and stubbing out his cigar. “Hand it over, Jonno.” 

Jonathon ‘Jonno’ Miller stumbled forward. He’d clearly been drinking, but it didn’t bother Stokes. The man was an idiot, and Stokes was sure if he cracked his head open he would find at least half of his brain missing, but he was a brute in a fight, sober or otherwise. It was the reason Stokes had kept him around so long. As Jonno reached Stokes’ desk, he handed him a newspaper that was more than slightly wrinkled and smelt of stale beer. 

“The paper,” Jonna slurred, “they got a picture of you and your new girl.”

“I don’t have a new girl,” Stokes snapped. _Or any girl, for that matter._ He pulled the paper close, and was stunned to see his own face printed on the page. In his arms was a beautiful woman, but one Stokes was sure he had never seen before. Stokes felt confusion bubbling in his chest, until he glanced down at the caption. “Tell me, Jonno, can you read?”

Jonno went red, and he stared down at his feet. “No, boss.”

That explained it. “Well if you could, you would have seen what was written underneath. It’s not me, it’s some Inspector prick.” 

“Sorry, boss.”

Stokes exhaled loudly. “Just get out of my sight, you fucking idiot.” 

He didn’t bother raising his voice; there was no need. Jonno practically fell over his own feet in his haste to leave the office. Stokes’ temper was legendary, and all he knew him understood it was better to get out quickly rather than risk a true explosion. While he normally would have revelled in chewing Jonno out, he needed time to think. There was an opportunity here, and with all the rumours circulating, the plan he concocted needed to be foolproof.

Stokes stared closely at the photograph. He could see why Jonno was convinced that it was him. They were nearly identical, give or take a few features. And he was an Inspector, not some good for nothing, pissant Constable. Stokes had never been one for theatrics; he preferred to keep his business and his dealings grounded. But if he wanted this to work, he was going to have to get a little creative. Impersonating someone, let alone a copper, was not high on his bucket list, yet this double, this Jack Robinson, presented such a unique opportunity.

He would have to plan carefully, however. There was no point taking someone’s place if your double was simply going to turn up at the same place at the same time. Of course, he could mitigate that risk by quietly kidnapping the Inspector, but that would raise even more suspicion. And it would lead to the decision of whether or not he killed him or let him go. While he got off the attempted murder charge of Slater, killing a copper brought a different kind of heat down upon a person. The alternative of letting him go also wasn’t viable, as it would show his hand. 

Besides, Stokes mused, having a double in the Victorian Constabulary might come in handy later down the track. If he could get away with the impersonation once, he could get away with it twice. All he needed was to get a few of his boys to follow the Inspector around for a while, so they could tell him how the man walked, how he talked, and who he associated with. He might only get one attempt at this double act, and he couldn’t waste it. Not when his empire hung in the balance. And while they were following the copper, he could do his own research on the other figure in the photograph. The Honourable Miss Fisher, a lady detective? That certainly piqued his interest. 

Stokes rested the newspaper down on his desk as all the pieces settled and formed a solid picture in his mind. Yes, this would be perfect, and could go down as one of his most ingenious schemes yet. The only thing that gave him pause was the thought of having to shave his beard. From the photograph, it was clear Robinson was clean-shaven, the same as all the other coppers in Victoria. Shame, he thought. But if it was between his beard and his empire, there was only one logical choice. And Henry Stokes was determined to not let his empire fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short nature of this chapter, but I felt it was important to establish who Henry Stokes is, and what kind of man he is, for those readers that haven't seen Underbelly. Also, I didn't pay that much attention to the show, so I don't know if any of his henchmen have specific names. I've made a couple of them up for this fic, but you can substitute them with henchmen from the show if you like, I take no offence.
> 
> Next chapter should be up tomorrow, where we might see a familiar face ;)
> 
> (Note: Two-Up is a type of gambling, and a two-up school is essentially a building where they conducted illegal games).


	2. Chapter 2

**Monday 11th November, 1929**

Just over a week after seeing that strange photograph in the newspaper, Henry Stokes stood across the street from a nondescript Victorian Police Station, wearing a three-piece suit, large overcoat, and fancy hat. His beard was gone, and his hair was parted to the side instead of his usual style of having it all slicked back. He felt absolutely ridiculous, but was grateful for the fact that his double was a well-dressed man. If he had had to walk around Melbourne in rags, Stokes would have seriously considered throwing the whole plan away.

His double, who he had thought was simply Inspector Robinson, was actually Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. It elevated his position within the police force, and as such was going to make Stokes’ job a hell of a lot easier. He outranked everyone in this stupid fucking building, so getting information about himself was going to be an absolute breeze. 

Stokes glanced over at one of his men, standing at the corner of the block on which the station rested. He waited for the signal that Robinson had disappeared down the end of the street, which would make it safe for him to enter the building. He itched for a cigar, and cursed the prick for not being a smoker. It meant he couldn’t smell of cigar smoke when he was impersonating him, and Stokes wasn’t stupid enough to get caught from something as simple as that. After a few more minutes, Stokes noticed his man on the corner raise his hand to his hat. That was the signal he had been waiting for, and Stokes took off, glad for things to finally be underway.

“Inspector, you’re back.” The Constable at the front desk exclaimed as Stokes entered. There was something truly thrilling about being inside a police station with absolutely no threat of being recognised or arrested. Stokes made sure none of it showed on his face as he nodded to the Constable whose name he didn’t know.

“Forgot something.” Stokes had decided to keep his sentences short and simple as much as he could. Too many words meant more chances for someone to notice a difference in his voice. “Won’t be long.”

“Of course, Inspector.” The Constable went back to his paperwork, and Stokes fought the urge to laugh. Why had he even been worried? This was ridiculous; his own bar had more security measures than a damned fucking police station.

Stokes entered the office with his double’s name printed on the door. Luckily it was the door closest to the front desk, and Stokes didn’t have to go wandering around looking like a fool. Once inside, he sat himself at the Inspector’s desk and closed his eyes for a moment. It was a small but incredibly sweet victory against the coppers. A high profile criminal had just waltzed into their building, sat himself at the highest ranking officer’s desk, and nobody was any the wiser. 

Stokes opened his eyes and got to work, holding the buzz of victory within his chest. He couldn’t let it overpower him - he still had a job to do - but he refused to let it go just yet. He pretended to busy himself with looking through the drawers for something, but he needn't have bothered. The Constable hadn’t looked up from his paperwork since he’d stepped into the office. Stokes didn’t want to push his luck, so he got up and returned to the front desk.

“Constable, remind me,” Stokes kept his voice level and calm, just as his men had told him Robinson was like to do. “Who’s the detective on the Henry Stokes case?”

“That would be Detective Bruns, Inspector.” Thankfully, the Constable didn’t seem fazed by the question. “I haven’t seen him leave yet, so he’s probably still in his office.”

The Constable motioned down the hall. Something that would have been useless to Robinson, but was invaluable to Stokes. “Thank you, Constable.”

As he moved away, Stokes weighed his options. He had hoped that whomever was on his case would have left by now, so that he could have free reign in their office with their files. Coming face-to-face with the man investigating him could be a risk too far. Surely the copper had seen photographs of him at the very least, and would know of the resemblance between himself and Robinson. Would it be suspicious for the Inspector to check in on the progress of the case? Surely not, considering he was the highest ranking copper in the building. Then again, Robinson could be the type to leave his fellow detectives to their own devices. 

Stokes stopped. He had been scanning the doors along the corridor as he walked, and had found Detective Bruns’ office. It was time to make a decision. He knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A voice that was higher pitched than anything Stokes had been expecting sounded from within. Stokes pushed the door open, and committed to what he knew could turn out to be the dumbest decision of his life. “Oh! Detective Inspector, what a surprise!”

Stokes almost let out a huge sigh of relief. Almost. “Bruns. What on earth are you doing here so late?” 

Stokes was thankful that he hadn’t phrased the question in the way that he would have if he had been addressing one of his men. Robinson apparently never swore, something that Stokes had had a hard time wrapping his head around. It was a fact he had to keep solidly at the back of his mind at all times, lest he slip and get caught out simply because he said a bad word.

“I was just getting some paperwork in order, you see,” Bruns was jittery and nervous, something that boded well for Stokes. If this was the man leading the charge after him, it was clear that the rumours that the coppers were about to rain fire down upon him were just that - rumours. This man was in no state to be leading anything, if the way he almost tripped over his own feet as he stood up was anything to go by.

“I see. And what of the Henry Stokes case? How is that coming along?” Stokes sounded suspicious to even his own ears, but luckily Bruns was too focused on wringing his hands together to notice anything else. 

“Well, Inspector!” Bruns met his eye, before lowering his gaze quickly. “Well, not quite well, you see, there’s not much to go on, the man covers his tracks rather well, and no one close to him will talk! Although there’s not many people that are close to him, at least not many I’ve been able to find ...”

Fucking hell, the man was a mess. Stokes was certain Bruns would ramble all night if he let him. And while it was tempting, Stokes didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Every second that passed was another that pushed his luck. “I understand, Bruns. Still, surely you’ve planned a raid of some sort?”

Before he had entered this office, Stokes would have deemed that question far too suspicious. But it was clear that Bruns was either a nervous man by nature, or he was terrified of Robinson. From what his men had relayed after a week of observing the Inspector, Stokes was confident in saying it was the former. He had a feeling he could ask anything of the man, and Bruns would collapse from his attempt to tell him everything he desired to know.

“Of course, Inspector! It’s planned for this Friday night, although I suggested it should be done in the day time, I was overruled. Too many things can go wrong at night, I said, but apparently it’s when all the gambling takes place, and of course, that’s what we aim to prevent. But in order to prevent it, we need to let it get started, so you see my predicament. Still, it’ll be this Friday night, and you can be sure we will have results, Inspector.”

Stokes was satisfied. He had more than enough time to prepare for the raid, and the comfort in knowing that this bumbling, brainless, clutterfuck of a man was in charge of the team coming after him. He could probably have the bar in full swing on Friday night, and get rid of the Detective by simply claiming that there was nothing illegal going on. The man would fold like a house of cards, Stokes was sure.

“See that you do, Detective Bruns.” Stokes watched as the man actually squirmed. His shoulders shook slightly with the effort of holding in his laughter. 

He knew he shouldn’t stay, so he reluctantly removed himself from Bruns’ office. As he walked down the corridor toward the entrance, he allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction. He was in the clear. Or so he thought.

“Inspector?” The Constable called to him as he neared the front desk. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but Miss Fisher is in your office. She says she needs to talk to you.”

For the second time that night, Stokes was faced with a difficult decision. He knew he should just leave, and not push his luck any further, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was really like. He had researched her after reading the article about her and his double, and she fascinated him. Not only was she a lady detective, but by all accounts, she was damn good at it. It was most certainly the last person he should come face-to-face with when impersonating Robinson, but he’d be damned if he backed away from a challenge. 

“Thank you, Constable.” Stokes nodded at the man, who smiled and went back to his paperwork once again. Stokes turned and faced his office door. It would be more suspicious to leave without seeing her, he reasoned. But he would need to be careful; if anyone was likely to win the game of spot the difference tonight, it would be the woman who was reportedly Robinson’s lover.

Stokes readied himself, then stepped through the door. 

Standing on the other side of the desk was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Stunning in every way, and from what he had read, there were indeed brains behind the looks. As he entered, she looked up, and her eyes sparkled.

“Ah, there you are Jack!” Miss Fisher stood straighter as she placed the papers she had been reading back on the desk, before moving to stand in front of him. “I was worried I’d missed you.”

“Luck is on your side tonight then, Miss Fisher.” _As I hope it’s on mine._ Stokes knew her name was Phryne, but it stood to reason that a professional, respectable man such as Robinson would address her formally, at least in public. It appeared to be the right decision, as Miss Fisher didn’t react to the title.

“So it is.” Miss Fisher’s gaze dipped as she scanned him quickly. Stokes felt his heart begin to beat faster. He told himself to calm down; there was absolutely no way she had determined a difference between himself and his double that quickly. “Aren’t you wondering why I’m here?”

Stokes dug around for the right answer. Should he guess? After a few seconds, he settled on a safe answer. “I assumed you’d get to it eventually.”

Miss Fisher smirked, and it was one of the most gorgeous things Stokes had seen. He could see why Robinson kept her close, and it wasn’t only because of her detective abilities.

“I’m here because I want to know your thoughts on the wedding planning. I know Dot’s been run ragged with everything, and I need to make sure Hugh is supporting her and putting in at least some kind of effort. I also think I should have a chat with Father O’Leary, just to make sure he’s not making either of them commit to something they don’t want. Will you come with me if I do?” 

Miss Fisher spoke at an almost breakneck pace, and Stokes quickly realised he had no fucking idea who any of the people she had mentioned were. Clearly he should have had his men focus their attention on Miss Fisher as well as Robinson during their week of research. Their social circles appeared to be one and the same. 

It took Stokes a moment to realise Miss Fisher was waiting for his answer. 

“Of course,” he smiled slightly. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you, Jack. And you’ll speak to Hugh as well?” Miss Fisher asked. Her words were innocent, yet her tone was anything but. Stokes could tell that there would be no arguing with her.

“I will, Miss Fisher.” He assured her.

“Excellent.” 

It didn’t escape Stokes’ notice that Miss Fisher hadn’t moved away from him. If anything, she had only come closer. Perhaps there was truth to the lover rumour from the newspaper after all. 

“Another thing about the wedding, however.” At this, Miss Fisher looked almost, sheepish? That couldn’t be right. “While I’m obviously incredibly happy for Dot, it does feel strange to be so excited, given my absolute distaste for marriage. How about you Jack? Do you ever regret your marriage to Rosie?”

Now who the fuck is Rosie, Stokes wondered. Clearly an ex-wife; Robinson didn’t wear a ring and apparently the only woman he regularly had contact with was the one standing in front of him. But if this Rosie was indeed an ex, did it end amicably, or badly? Had she been murdered, or had they merely separated? There were a thousand possibilities, and absolutely no time.

“I try not to think about it.” It was the only safe answer he could come up with.

“Really? I would have thought you’d say no.”

Shit. Stokes reprimanded himself. He had overshot with this impersonation business, and hadn’t done enough research beforehand. Although he wasn’t sure he could be blamed; what were the chances of Miss Fisher coming to talk to Robinson tonight, of all nights?

While he fumed at himself, Miss Fisher had come closer. She had clearly realised something was amiss as she stood almost chest-to-chest with him. He had to do something, he had to distract her. 

Before he could think too hard about it, Stokes reached out and placed his hands on each side of Phryne’s face. He pulled her in quickly and made sure to kiss her thoroughly. To his surprise, he could feel Miss Fisher begin to kiss him back as she placed her hands on his chest. In turn, he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her closer. Perhaps she hadn’t suspected anything, and was simply getting close in order to do this exact thing. Whatever the reason, Stokes knew he had to stop before he went too far. Despite his growing desire, Stokes separated his lips from hers.

As they stood there, their foreheads rested against each other and their breath mingled together. Stokes took the opportunity to speak before Miss Fisher could get another word out.

“Why would I spend time thinking about her, when I’ve got you right here?”

“Jack…” Miss Fisher’s voice was soft and gentle. It had clearly been the right thing to say. The first right thing he’d said since he walked into the office, it would seem.

While Stokes wanted nothing more than to pull Miss Fisher in again, he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. It could compromise everything, all he’d learned from Bruns, especially when he didn’t know for a fact if they were lovers or not. Things couldn’t go further, as much as it pained Stokes to admit it.

“I should get going.” Stokes pulled back reluctantly and disentangled himself from Miss Fisher. “Technically my shift finished a while ago.”

“Your place or mine?” The twinkle had returned to Miss Fisher’s eyes as she smirked at him.

Stokes smirked back; he really liked her. “Each to their own would be best, I think.”

“You’re no fun, Jack. But very well.” Miss Fisher grabbed her bag from the desk, and to Stokes’ immense relief, left without another word. Stokes waited a few minutes, both to catch his breath and to make sure Miss Fisher was far enough away that he wouldn’t risk running into her outside, before taking his leave as well. 

He nodded to the Constable whose name he still didn’t know, as he moved through the front door and emerged into the cold Melbourne night air. It was crisp and refreshing, and exactly what he needed. Stokes took a moment to control himself, then began to move towards his car on the opposite side of the street.

As difficult as it would be, he needed to remove Miss Fisher from his mind. After all, he had a raid to prepare for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene between Stokes and Phryne was the scene that came to me from watching Nathan Page's parts in Underbelly: Squizzy. The scene that spawned this entire fic lmao. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also, since in the show we only ever meet one other Constable (Neville Martin in S3) and one other Detective (the shady ass Senior Sergeant Grossmith from the carnival episode, 1x11), I had to make up new ones for this fic, which was a lot of fun. I know that there's no point in having anyone other than Jack and Hugh in the show, but it is hilarious that they seem to be the only ones who work for the police in Melbourne lmao.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tuesday 12th November, 1929**

“Ah, Miss Fisher.” Jack glanced up as Miss Phryne Fisher swept into his office. She was immaculately dressed, as always, in a swirl of blues and purples. However, as she got closer and seated herself on the other side of his desk, Jack could almost see lines under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept much, or at all, that night. Before he could think about questioning her on whether she had stayed up for business or for pleasure, Phryne spoke.

“There you are Jack. Now, were you here at the station late last night?” 

“No, I was at home. I would have left just before nine.” Jack was instantly filled with confusion. Had something happened at the station last night? And if so, why hadn’t he been informed, first thing? 

“Good. I mean I was almost certain, but I had to confirm it wasn’t you.” Phryne relaxed back into her seat, her shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly as she calmed. But while her worries appeared to be somewhat alleviated, Jack’s were only growing. He could feel his agitation at being left out of the information loop growing with each passing second.

“What wasn’t me?”

“Henry Stokes, have you heard of him?” 

Normally Jack found it fairly fun when Phryne answered one of his questions with one of her own. It was almost natural for them - part of their repertoire. However this time it led to his agitation becoming almost pure annoyance. He wanted her to get to the point.

“Yes, of course I’ve heard of him,” Jack leant forward, determined to show that he wasn’t in the mood for games. “What’s this got to do with where I was last night?”

“Did you know that you and Mr Stokes look alike?” From the small smile Jack could see in Phryne’s face, he knew she was beginning to really enjoy herself. And damn his stupid heart, he couldn’t stay mad in the face of her pure, radiating joy.

“I’ve heard we have a resemblance, but I’ve never met him so I couldn’t say.”

“I can. You look damn near identical, Jack.” 

Jack had just let himself relax, and settled back into his chair, only for Phryne’s response to send him rocketing forward again. If she was implying what he thought she was implying, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay calm. 

“How in god’s name could you know that?” Jack kept his voice level, despite his desire to raise it. Instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, before opening them and sending Phryne a hard look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been poking around the gangs, Miss Fisher, that would be a damn stupid thing to do.”

“Of course not. I do rather like being alive.” Phryne didn’t sound offended, for which Jack was grateful. He never knew when he was overstepping the mark in regards to her safety, and how she conducted herself in her private life. As he was thinking, Phryne looked back toward the front desk through his open office door. “Constable Scott, would you come in here please?”

Constable Scott, who had just ended a telephone call, shuffled into the room. Jack felt sorry for the lad; he’d been on the night shift and was presumably just waiting for another Constable to relieve him. He looked almost dead on his feet, but Jack was impressed at his refusal to let his exhaustion show too much.

“Yes, Miss Fisher?” Scott asked as he reached Jack’s desk. 

“Could you tell me what time Inspector Robinson came in last night?” Phryne addressed Scott, but was looking at Jack. He refused to meet her gaze, however, as he determinedly kept his eyes on the young Constable. Although, he quickly realised, Phryne’s question hadn’t made sense. Shouldn’t she have said, ‘left last night’?

“It would have been just after nine o’clock, Miss.”

Jack started. “That’s not possible.”

“Not possible for you to have been here, but possible for someone who looks like you to be here.” Phryne’s confidence and clear understanding of the situation only elevated Jack’s bewilderment. Who could look so much like him, Jack wondered, before the answer hit him like a bucket of cold water.

“Stokes?” Jack asked, to which Phryne nodded. “No. He couldn’t have just waltzed into a police station. He’s a wanted man.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Constable Scott going red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry sir, I was on the front desk last night. I would have sworn on my life that it was you.”

Jack looked over at the poor man, who was staring at his feet. This couldn’t have happened. “I can’t believe it.”

“You should Jack.” Phryne leaned toward him. “Constable Scott here can confirm it, and so can I.”

Ah, so that’s how she knew how similar they looked. She had been here at the station, and had come face-to-face with Henry Stokes, one of the most dangerous and wanted criminals Melbourne had ever seen. Jack took solace in the fact that Stokes likely wouldn’t have done anything in a police station, but then he had gotten away with attempted murder and blowing up a building, so who could be sure. 

“I still can’t quite believe it.” Jack shook his head, and sighed. There was no point in trying to deny it, when two people, one of whom he trusted with his life, were telling him it was true. He had to move on. “Why was he here? And why were you here, Miss Fisher?”

“Well I can only answer your second question. As to the first, Constable Scott, did he say anything to you?” Both Phryne and Jack turned to see Scott turn an even darker shade of red. If it wasn’t so important, Jack would have felt guilty about questioning him.

“He asked me to remind him who was on the Henry Stokes case.” Scott’s voice was so soft, Jack almost couldn’t make out what he had said. But as much as he wanted to ask why that question didn’t tip off the Constable as to what was going on, he realised he couldn’t blame him. Scott had clearly never seen Stokes, and couldn’t know of any resemblance between them. It was an innocent question, and one that Jack could have reasonably asked of the young man.

“And what did you tell him?” Jack asked gently.

“I told him it was Detective Bruns.” Scott’s face was slowly returning to its normal colour as it became clear to him that Jack wasn’t going to take his badge away. “He went to talk to him, but he wasn’t gone long. Then when he came back, I told him Miss Fisher was waiting for you, him, in your office.”

That answered his question then. Somehow, Stokes had found out about their apparently remarkable resemblance, and had used it to get into the station and interrogate Bruns. He would need to find out what the anxious detective had told Stokes. While he hoped it had been very little, every encounter he had had with the man told him it wouldn’t be that easy. The truth was that Bruns would have folded quite easily, and told Stokes anything he wanted to know. But he could follow that up later. For now, he wanted an answer to his other question.

“And you, Miss Fisher? Why were you here?”

Phryne shrugged, indifferent. “I was here to ask when you wanted a tennis rematch. But I quickly realised it wasn’t you. I mentioned Dot, Hugh, Father O’Leary, and Rosie and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out who everyone was. Then of course was the kiss.”

“He kissed you?” Jack felt the familiar stab of pain in his heart. It always happened when he found out about someone else being close to Phryne. Although this time it felt different. Perhaps it was because the man she had kissed had apparently looked exactly like him.

“Permission to be dismissed, sir?” Scott quickly interjected, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Jack had almost forgotten the poor man was still in the room.

“Yes, of course, thank you Scott.” Constable Scott quickly fled the room.

Phryne waited until Scott was back at the front desk before speaking. “Stokes could see that I was getting suspicious, so he tried to distract me. It didn’t work, clearly, but I had to let him believe it did.”

“And why is that?”

At this, Phryne looked almost, embarrassed? But that couldn’t be right, Jack mused. He was sure he’d never once seen her truly embarrassed, despite everything that she did and said. “While I’m usually very confident in my ability to get out of any situation, having a gangster I know nothing about figuring out that I had discovered his ruse while he could be concealing any number of dangerous weapons wasn’t what I’d call preferable.”

“So for once you did the sane thing and refused to poke the bear.” Jack couldn’t help but smile as the pain in his chest dissipated. “I’m impressed, Miss Fisher.” _And a lot less jealous than I was a minute ago._

“Thank you, Jack,” Phryne smirked. “Now all I have to do is reveal to Stokes that I knew who he was.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Of course she had a dangerous scheme up her sleeve. Why would he ever expect anything else? “And why on earth would you do that?”

“To gain his trust of course.” Phryne’s voice was strong; she had clearly been thinking about this all night. It would be difficult to throw her off course. “I can offer him a partnership; exchanging information about the police’s plans for a cut of his gambling business. I’m positive it won’t take long for me to gain enough information in order to bring him down.”

“If you expect me to encourage this plan, you clearly haven’t learnt a thing about me despite all the time we’ve spent together.” Jack met her eyes, declining to back down so easily. “I refuse to put you in harm's way to catch a criminal we’re not even after.”

“The police are after him!” Phryne protested.

“The police yes, us no! Detective Bruns is leading that investigation, and we’re going to leave it that way.” Normally, his strong tone of voice would put anyone off. But Phryne wasn’t just anyone. He should have been used to it by now, but sometimes her argumentative streaks still caught him by surprise.

“Bruns? Come on, Jack,” Phryne scoffed. “That man wouldn’t be able to catch Stokes if the fellow dropped to his knees in front of him. It has to be us! We’ve got every advantage. I promise you we’ll have it all wrapped up by Christmas.”

Jack had to take a deep breath, and think for a moment. Phryne was right, as usual. They did have the advantage over Stokes. And Bruns was indeed an idiot; he’d been after Stokes for months with no results. They were in a unique position to finally get one of the most high profile criminals in Melbourne’s history behind bars, permanently. 

“Fine.” All the hostility in his chest vanished at the sight of Phryne’s smiling response to that one word. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it. “But at the first hint of danger, we pull the plug. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Phryne gently mocked him, and Jack had to fight a smile.

“Good. Now, what’s our plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My initial plan for this fic had Phryne suggest that they continue to let Stokes impersonate Jack, so they could feed him false information, but it didn't work no matter how much I tried to make it fit. Also, in my heart I knew that there was no way Phryne wouldn't be able to tell that it wasn't Jack - they're too close and she's too smart for that. See if you can spot the moment in the previous chapter when she figures it out lmao (hint: it's not very far into their conversation haha). 
> 
> So instead, Phryne is about to enter the world of Henry Stokes. Let's hope she knows what she's doing.
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying this story, please let me know if you spot any glaring issues. All the best!!! xo


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday 15th November, 1929**

As the cab rolled through the streets of Melbourne, getting closer to Richmond by the second, Phryne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For the second time in three days, she was going to be face-to-face with a notorious, dangerous gangster. Only this time, it would be on his turf, and there would be no pretense to protect her. There was a looming possibility that Henry Stokes would shoot her on the spot, and that terrified Phryne more than she would ever admit. While she had conducted various plans and schemes in the past, this was truly one of her more stupid ideas. But she refused to back down, especially when she knew there was a large chance of her and Jack putting Stokes behind bars, where he should have been a long time ago.

Thinking of Jack made her heart ache. When she had outlined her plan in his office yesterday, he had been distressed at the notion of sending her in alone. Phryne had assured him that she wouldn’t be entirely alone, but they both knew that if Stokes decided to kill her, there wouldn’t be anything she or anyone else could do. The plan itself was simple enough, yet with such a volatile wildcard in the mix it was hard to be confident of anything. Phryne had to admit to herself that her confidence would have been bolstered by Jack’s presence. But he could never have come along if they wanted this plan to have any chance of working, so Phryne contented herself with knowing that she could handle Stokes herself.

Cec, who was driving in Bert’s absence, turned the cab around a corner before cutting the engine.

“We’re here, Miss.” Cec’s voice was quiet as always, though Phryne could hear a small amount of worry in his tone. He had wanted to be more involved in the plan, and have Mr Butler drive Phryne to Stokes’ bar. Phryne had talked him down, stating that it was best if Stokes didn’t know of her connection to Cec and Bert. That way they could be close when she needed, without tipping her hand to Stokes and showing that she required backup.

“Thank you, Cec. Now remember, you have to drive away like you would for a normal customer, but stay close. I may need a hasty exit.” Cec didn’t respond, so Phryne placed her hand on the back of his seat, near his shoulder. “I’ll be alright, Cec. I promise.”

Cec nodded, before he exited the car and opened Phryne’s door for her. Phryne made sure to pay him no mind as she got out, as much as it pained her to do so. She drew her shaul closer to her, and made her way across the street. There was no turning back now, as she pushed through the door and entered the infamous two-up school.

Phryne hadn’t made it more than a few steps before a large man placed his body in front of her own. She almost had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, and she wasn’t sure what to make of the almost glazed look in the man’s eyes. It was clear from the smell that he had been drinking, but from the look of his muscled arms, that wouldn’t be a problem if he decided he had to bundle her back out onto the street.

“Can I help ya?” The large man slurred. Phryne had to blink rapidly to stop her eyes from watering as the man’s smell accosted her nostrils. The drinking he’d clearly been doing all day obviously hadn’t given him time to bathe.

“I’m here to see Mr Stokes.” Phryne spoke slower than she normally would, just to ensure the man processed all of her words. “Tell him Miss Phryne Fisher is here to see him.”

The man squinted. Whether it was because of what she had said, or how she said it, or for a different reason entirely, Phryne couldn’t say. “Boss don’t like unexpected guests.”

Phryne rolled her eyes as she tamped down on her frustration. It didn’t bode well for the rest of her plan if she was struggling to get in the door. “Just tell him I’m here, and let him decide for himself,” she snapped.

The man’s brain finally seemed to catch up with what was going on. He didn’t bother to address her again as he turned and shuffled away. Phryne supposed she should wait where she was; no need to cause a scene if she could avoid it. She did however take a few more steps, just so she could see the entirety of the bar. There were tables stacked with an astounding number of chips, with men gathered around, betting their livelihoods away. There were other tables where men were simply drinking and talking, or yelling would be more appropriate, Phryne mused. It was a cacophony of sounds, from men’s voices to glasses clinking to fists hitting tables in both delight and anger. If she wasn’t here on official business, Phryne may have enjoyed herself.

At last, the large man returned to her. “Follow me.”

Phryne was relieved; at least she would get past the door. Anything less would have been embarrassing. As she followed the man through the crowd, a certain pair of eyes caught her own. Phryne nodded to Bert, and they shared a secret smile. Phryne had assured Jack she wouldn’t be alone, after all. Bert returned his gaze to the cards in front of him, and Phryne continued forward.

The man stopped at the gap between two curtains. “Miss Phee-nee Fisher, boss.” 

Phryne rolled her eyes, though she knew the blame was partially on her. She should have stuck to Miss Fisher, for the drunk man’s sake. The man ushered her into what appeared to be an office - it had a desk - and closed the curtains behind her as he remained on the outside. It was then that Phryne took in the man seated behind said desk. 

Henry Stokes looked different from when he was impersonating Jack. Their facial features were still the same, however his hair was slicked back, and while his general wardrobe was also the same as Jack’s - a three-piece suit with a tie - the details were all wrong. Stokes’ vest was patterned with dots, and his tie had a black and red checkered pattern. Phryne had never seen Jack wear anything so colourful. 

There was also the small detail of the long rifle he casually held, a rifle whose barrel was pointed directly at her chest. 

“Mr Stokes, how lovely to see you again.” Phryne swallowed her worries away. She focused her gaze on Stokes’ face, rather than his weapon.

“You’ve got about thirty seconds to explain what the fuck you’re doing here, before I ruin that pretty little dress of yours.” Stokes’ voice was calm and measured, and Phryne could see no shaking in the rifle. He meant what he said.

“I worked out who you were the other night, or rather, who you weren’t. And quite easily I might add.” Phryne tried to act and sound as nonchalant as she could, and kept her eyes from flicking to the rifle. She had to be confident, as she always was in the face of danger. “Your posture was all wrong, as was your voice. You see, I’ve been friends with Jack Robinson for a long time. I’d know him a mile off.”

Phryne could once again see the gears working overtime behind Stokes’ eyes as he processed everything she was saying. There was still no sign of him lowering his weapon, although it had most definitely been more than thirty seconds and Phryne was still standing, unencumbered by bullet holes.

“Friends?” Stokes smirked. “I thought he was your lover. At least that’s how the newspapers are reporting it.”

Ah, the newspaper. That photograph of her and Jack that had been printed, that must have been how Stokes found out about his and Jack’s resemblance. Well that was one mystery solved.

“Newspapers exaggerate all the time.” Phryne shrugged. She was confident Stokes wasn’t going to shoot her, but she still needed him to lower the rifle. “You should know that. I once read that you had a wife, and that’s clearly not true.”

“Fair enough.” Finally, Stokes lowered his rifle. He placed it on the desk; a show that while he wasn’t going to shoot her, he was still on edge. He gestured to one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “So, are you here to arrest me, Miss Fisher?”

“Of course not.” Phryne settled herself into the chair that was furthest away from the rifle. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”

“A deal? Consider me interested, Miss Fisher.” Stokes smiled. It was clear he had relaxed, and was beginning to have fun. Phryne took it as a good sign, and in turn allowed herself to relax somewhat as well.

“Your little impersonation plan, while ingenious, could never be attempted multiple times. The risk would be too great.” Phryne leaned forward slightly. “But you would still need information on the police’s plans in order to stay one step ahead. I can provide that information for you. And in turn, you can cut me in on your gambling business.”

Stokes hadn’t moved during her little speech, and it made Phryne’s heart beat a little faster. She was going to have to learn to read him, and fast, if she wanted to always have the upper hand in their conversations. 

“It’s a pretty plan.” Stokes leant his forearms on the desk, bringing their faces closer together. “But if I were to agree, I would need assurances that you weren’t lying to me. Because if you were to lie to me …” Stokes rested one of his hands back on the rifle. “I don’t think the other residents of 221B The Esplanade, St Kilda, would have a very good time.”

That stopped Phryne in her tracks. While she never intended to lie to Stokes, the realisation that it wouldn’t just be her life at risk if she were to get caught made her heart thud loudly in her chest. The consequences of misstepping this time were elevated, a lot more so than during any regular case. And of course she knew that her address was public record, but there was something about how blasé Stokes was when discussing multiple murders that made her blood run cold. She could stop now, and get out. But would her friends ever forgive her, knowing that they were the reason she stopped pursuing a criminal? She had to push through.

Phryne cleared her throat. From the look on Stokes’ face, he had known exactly what was running through her mind. She had to regain the advantage.

“Of course you would need assurances. You’re no idiot, after all.” Internally, Phryne smiled at the satisfied look on Stokes’ face. His ego was one of the biggest Phryne had encountered, which would make it easy to get on his good side. All she would have to do is toe the line, and present any plans she came up with in such a manner that Stokes would come away from the conversation feeling as though it was his idea all along. “The police are planning to raid your establishment tomorrow night.”

Stokes sat back in his chair. “That’s funny. The Detective told me it was the day after tomorrow.”

He clearly thought he had already caught her in a lie. Phryne rolled her eyes. “Well that was the original plan. Then yesterday, Bruns asked Inspector Robinson if he wanted to come along on the raid he’d asked about. Robinson was understandably confused, and they worked out what had happened. They’ve moved the raid to tomorrow, in an attempt to catch you off guard.”

From the way Stokes narrowed his eyes, Phryne could tell he didn’t believe her. She knew for a fact that the police raid was tomorrow, since she had been the one to suggest it to Jack, who would suggest it to Bruns. She argued that if Stokes didn’t prepare for it, they would get him. And if he did, he would trust her information from then on. Ideally, she wanted the latter, so she continued.

“Think of it this way. If I’m lying, the worst thing that happens is that you have a dry bar for two days rather than one.”

“That’s true.” Stokes rubbed his chin absentmindedly with one hand. Phryne knew from her research that he usually sported a distinct beard, but had clearly shaved it in order to impersonate Jack. Evidently he missed it greatly. “But what I still don’t understand is why a respectable woman such as yourself would want to get in on my illegal business.”

Phryne shrugged. “You’ve clearly done your research on me. I imagine you know exactly how wealthy I am. How do you think that came to be?”

“Family money,” Stokes suggested.

“At first, but when that ran dry I had to turn to other measures.” Phryne looked the gangster directly in the eye, unflinching and unblinking. “We can help each other Mr Stokes, a mutually beneficial partnership.”

There was a moment of silence between them, as Stokes weighed his options. Phryne knew better than to push him, so she merely waited patiently. She felt that she had made a compelling case, and that Stokes had no reason not to go along with her plan.

“I can see why you’re such a respected investigator, Miss Fisher.” Stokes’ eyes sparkled. “Quick witted and always thinking three steps ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr Stokes.” It was a genuine thank you, or at least, as genuine as Phryne could make it seem. She didn’t care how Stokes perceived her; all she cared about was that he trusted her.

“Well if we’re going to be partners, you might as well call me Henry.” Stokes placed his hand out in front of him.

_Everyone else does_ , Phryne’s brain supplied. She took his hand and shook it. “Very well Henry. And you may call me Phryne.” _Although hardly anyone else does._

As she went to remove her hand, Henry’s grip tightened. “Keep in mind, Phryne, if your information about tomorrow is wrong, I’ll make you regret ever coming here today.”

Phryne gripped his hand tightly back, as she refused to be intimidated. “It won’t be.”

At this, Henry nodded, and released her hand. Phryne quickly brought it back to her person, and stood. She desperately wanted to get out and not overstay her welcome. She also needed to make sure Jack knew what was at stake if any unexpected changes were to be made to the police raid. “Good luck with the preparations then, Henry.”

Henry inclined his head, and it was all Phryne could do to walk slowly and purposefully away, rather than run as her heart desired to. As she slipped through the curtains, she saw that Bert had relocated to a table much closer to Henry’s office. She hadn’t been alone, she reminded herself. Her friends would always watch her back, as she would watch theirs.

It was too dangerous to acknowledge him again, so Phryne simply continued on her way. She exited the bar and took several deep breaths of the fresh air. Well, it wasn’t exactly fresh, but it was certainly better than the smoky air within the bar. She began to move down the street, only for a cab to halt by her. Phryne smiled as Cec got out of the driver’s seat and opened the door for her. She practically raced to get to her seat, and she drew immense levels of comfort from having her friend by her side. 

Cec drove slowly out of Richmond, before speeding up. He would drop Phryne at her house before returning for Bert. Phryne hoped that neither Henry nor any of his men made the connection between the three of them. It could pose a problem later down the track if she wanted either Bert or Cec to be in the bar with her, undetected.

Finally, Cec pulled up outside 221B. The relief at being home, safe and sound, was almost too much to bear. Mr Butler and Dot met her at the door, and escorted her into the kitchen where Dot made her a strong cup of tea. Phryne relayed all that had happened while her two friends sat and listened quietly. While she initially decided to not mention Henry’s threat against them, she realised it would be safer if they were aware of it. Phryne was thankful that Jane was away at school. Dot and Mr Butler accepted the news of the threat as gracefully as she knew they would, and neither of them blamed her for pushing on with the plan.

There were times when Phryne forgot just how lucky she was to have these people in her life. This was not one of those times.

\------------

The phone rang about half an hour later, and Mr Butler called into the parlour to tell Phryne that Jack was on the line. She quickly made her way to the telephone, and settled herself into the chair next to it. 

“Jack!”

“Miss Fisher.” Jack’s voice sounded tense. “How did it go?”

“Smoothly, just as I said it would.” Phryne recounted the details of her meeting with Henry, although she purposefully neglected to mention the rifle. “He’s agreed to be partners, provided the raid happens tomorrow as I said.”

“That’s … good.” Jack had relaxed as she made her way through her story, but it was clear he still wasn’t impressed that the plan involved her being so close to Henry and his operation. “And everything is in place for the raid tomorrow. Bruns still doesn’t understand why we moved it, but he’ll be upset when they don’t find anything, which will lend a believability to your story.”

“Marvellous.” Phryne paused as she heard loud noises from Jack’s end. From what she could gather, Constables had just brought a particularly rowdy drunk into the station. “Eventful night?”

“Unfortunately.” Phryne could almost see the grimace she was sure was on Jack’s face. “It would be much easier if I could talk to you in person.”

“It would be easier,” Phryne agreed, “but I saw two of Stokes’ men following the cab on the way home, and there were probably more I didn’t see. I have no doubt they’re watching the house, so they’ll know if you visit. And Stokes made it clear that if he suspects anything is amiss, you and everyone that lives with me will be killed.”

There was a pause as Jack digested her reasoning. “I suppose there’s no point in reminding you how dangerous this is, or trying to convince you to pull the plug.”

“I’d like to think you know me better than that by now, Jack.” Phryne smiled.

“Yes I do,” Jack sighed. “Still, I’d feel better if I could be there with you.”

“So would I.”

“Be careful, Phryne.”

“Always am, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write haha. I hope everyone enjoys it, and is enjoying the story overall! All the best xo


	5. Chapter 5

**Thursday 14th November, 1929**

As soon as Phryne had left his office yesterday, Stokes had begun to set things in motion. First, he had made sure a few of his men followed the honourable lady home, just to make sure she didn’t go running to her copper. He ordered one of them to remain near Phryne’s home as well, and to report if Robinson went anywhere near it. Of course, they could easily communicate on the telephone, but there was no way for him to track that, so he left it be. 

Next, he contacted his suppliers and ordered that nothing was to be delivered to the bar until Saturday at the earliest. Even if the raid happened tomorrow, as Phryne had claimed, it didn’t hurt to take precautions. Besides, they had enough supplies on hand that if he needed to, they could run the bar as normal on Friday without restocking. 

When the last of his patrons had finally cleared out in the early hours of Thursday morning, Stokes set his men to work clearing out any contraband. Within the next two hours, anything that could possibly be seized by the police as evidence was removed from the premises. Stokes personally went through everything himself, inspecting every nook and cranny of the bar. When he was satisfied, he sent his men away so he could finally sleep.

He woke in the middle of the afternoon, surprisingly well rested. He conducted a final search of the bar, thinking to himself as he did. He recalled the entire conversation with Phryne, and Stokes had to admit that he had been impressed with her courage; not many people would have willingly revealed that they had uncovered a gangster’s plan. Even less would reveal it while also pointing out the flaws in said plan. 

The woman had balls, of that there was no doubt. More so than a lot of his men, Stokes mused. It would certainly be an advantage to have her on his side. But there was the question of her involvement with the coppers. While she had claimed that she made her money from illegal dealings, Stokes hadn’t found any evidence of that when he researched her. So either she was very good at covering her tracks, or she was lying to him. The former would be impressive; the latter would be dangerous, for both of them. He would have to keep a very close watch on her, and on what he let her in on, if they were to become partners. 

Still, he thought to himself as he completed his final sweep, he would be more inclined to trust her if the raid went ahead tonight, as she had claimed. And there was a part of him that hoped she was telling the truth, and that she really was crooked. To have her on his side, to truly have her loyalty, would be thrilling. For a brief moment, he imagined them side-by-side, running his empire together. What a queen she would make. 

That night, at exactly ten o’clock, Stokes heard the telltale noises that signalled half a dozen cars pulling up outside. The sounds were muffled, as he sat in his office, but he could hear Jonno and the others protesting. He had instructed them to put up a small fight, but to ultimately yield and let the pricks in. After all, why would he stop them when he had nothing to hide?

Stokes stood as the main door was kicked in, and dozens of coppers filled his bar. He made his way to the other side of his desk, before leaning against it and crossing his arms. The sight made his heart soar - all these stupid fucking Constables running around like fools, clearly confused as to why the bar was completely empty. 

“Henry Stokes!” The high-pitched voice of Detective Bruns reached him as the man himself entered his office. Stokes bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. The man was clearly trying to be intimidating; he even had his pistol out and everything. But there was nothing in the world that could make him fear Bruns and his ridiculous voice. “You’re under arrest, Mr Stokes.”

“And just what are you charging me with?” Stokes gestured around. “There’s nothing illegal happening here, as you can see.” 

“Yes, well, I ….” Bruns stuttered. He glanced around rapidly, obviously trying to find something, anything. “We’ll see about that. My, uh, my men will search all night if they must.”

At this, Stokes could see several Constables roll their eyes. They evidently knew there was no point, and that Stokes had prepared well enough, but they had to do what they were told. Stokes raised his hands, and he didn’t bother to hide his smugness. “Very well. Search away then, Detective.”

Over the course of the next half an hour, Stokes watched as Bruns and his men turned his bar upside-down. They of course found nothing, and it was with great joy that Stokes watched them shuffle out empty handed. He even stood on the doorstep and waved as Bruns’ car took off. He reentered the bar, and closed the door with a flourish to the cheers of his men. 

“Time to celebrate boys!” Stokes yelled, and his men joined in. They quickly set about retrieving as much alcohol as they could from where it had been stashed. “But we can’t celebrate without our guest of honour, of course. Miles!” Stokes reached out and grabbed the arm of a man standing nearby. 

“Yes, boss?” Miles was a stout man, and not much help in a fight. But he was a fast driver, and incredibly stubborn, which was all Stokes required. 

“Head over to Miss Fisher’s house and collect her. Make sure she comes back with you, and doesn’t bring anyone else. Don’t take no for an answer, got it?”

“Got it boss.” Miles nodded, and left quickly. 

Stokes watched him leave, satisfied that he had picked the right man for the job. Then, he grabbed the glass that Jonno offered him, and joined in the revelry.

\--------------

Phryne had refused to go to bed that night. She doubted she would have been able to sleep anyway, with her nerves as fraught as they were. Anything could go wrong, and Stokes could send his boys after her friends. Phryne had attempted to get Dot and Mr Butler to retire, but they had stubbornly denied being tired. If she was to remain awake, then so would they. Phryne’s heart was filled with love for them; what she would become if they were taken away, as a result of her actions no less, Phryne didn’t want to even contemplate.

It was around a quarter to eleven when Phryne, Dot, and Mr Butler were startled by loud banging on the door. Phryne couldn’t tell if the person was simply knocking or attempting to break it down. Dot reached out and grabbed Phryne’s hand while Mr Butler stood and moved to the door. Phryne’s ears strained as he opened the door. 

“Evening.” It was a voice Phryne didn’t recognise. She wasn’t sure if that was comforting or unsettling. Surely Stokes would have come himself if he wanted her dead? “I’m here to collect Miss Fisher.”

“Miss Fisher is asleep,” Mr Butler explained calmly. It was times like this that Phryne remembered that Mr Butler had fought in the war, and was trained to remain calm under pressure. “If you’ll be so kind to return in the morning, I’m sure -”

“Boss wants to see her now,” the man cut in. “Says I’m not to leave without her.”

“Very well,” Mr Butler said. “If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll rouse her.”

Phryne heard the door shut, and a moment later Mr Butler returned to the parlour. If Phryne didn’t know him as well as she did, she would have missed the faint glimmer of sweat on his forehead. The man had clearly rattled him, although it could have simply been from the loud knocking, Phryne tried to reason.

“What should we do, Miss?” Dot asked, her voice shaking. “You could sneak out the back, while we call Inspector Robinson.”

Phryne tightened her grip on Dot’s hand. “While that’s an excellent idea Dot, I’m afraid it would be more dangerous than going with this man.” Phryne could see Dot about to protest, so she quickly continued. “But if I’m not back in the morning, call Jack and tell him everything. Can you do that for me?”

Normally, Phryne wouldn’t have to ask, but she wanted to calm Dot before she left. As far as they were aware, everything had gone according to plan. And if Henry hadn’t planned for the raid, then he would already be behind bars, thereby leaving him no way to send this man to collect her. 

“Yes, Miss.” Dot’s voice was already stronger than what it had been, and that comforted Phryne. 

“Thank you, Dot. Also, call Bert and Cec. Have them bring the cab to the bar, but make sure they stay outside.” Phryne stood and moved to the foyer. She was glad she hadn’t bothered to change into her pajamas, and thus was ready to leave. No point delaying the inevitable. Before she opened the door, however, she turned back to her companion. “Remember Dot, until the morning, assume the best.”

Phryne waited for Dot to nod her assent, then she turned and opened the door. On the other side was a short man, who had clearly thought he would be standing there for a while as he had lit a gasper. As Phryne emerged from the house, the man dropped it and stubbed it out with his foot, and Phryne tried not to turn her nose up at the black smudge it left on her doorstep. 

“Alright, Miss?” The man didn’t wait for an answer. He made his way down the path, and clearly expected Phryne to follow. Phryne huffed, before doing just that. 

She followed him down the path, and waited as he closed the gate behind her. He then gestured to a car parked on the other side of the street. Together, they crossed the road, and got into the car. As Phryne closed her own door, she felt a chill run through her. She glanced up toward the house, to see Mr Butler and Dot standing together in the doorway. She gave them a small wave, which they returned, and then the man beside her started the engine. He pulled away from the curve, and Phryne’s life was in his hands.

The ride to Henry’s bar was spent in silence. Phryne didn’t bother to ask the man’s name. She had been about to, when she forced herself to remember that when she was around Henry and his men, she was playing a role. She wasn’t the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. She was Phryne Fisher, illegal business owner and lawbreaker. Of course, she broke laws during her investigations, but never to this extent. 

After about a fifteen minute drive, by Phryne’s estimate, they pulled up outside Henry’s bar. There was a chorus of loud voices coming from within, yet it calmed Phryne to realise they weren’t yells of anger. They were clearly celebrating, which meant the raid had happened exactly like she had said, and that Henry had prepared for it. The knowledge relaxed her, and she exited the car gracefully. Together, she and the man made their way to the entrance, and he held the door open for her while she stepped through.

The party that greeted them was one to rival anything Phryne had ever thrown. The alcohol was flowing freely, and more than a dozen men were drinking to their heart's content. Someone had set up a gramophone, and it was blasting loud jazz music throughout the bar. And there, in the middle of it all, was Henry Stokes, red faced and smiling proud. As Phryne moved further into the room, Henry turned and noticed her. His smile widened, if that were possible, and he called to her.

“Phryne, my dear!” His words slurred slightly, and Phryne guessed that he had already consumed several drinks. “Come in, come in! Miles,” he gestured to the man that had collected Phryne, “grab a drink, you old bastard! And someone get something for our guest of honour here.” 

A drink of what appeared to be whiskey was shoved into her hand as she reached Henry. He quickly threw an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close. Phryne reacted by placing her arm around his waist, as she attempted to feel a lot more comfortable than she currently was.

“Alright, everyone!” Henry had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. “Shut up, you fucking dogs, and gather ‘round!” 

Phryne scanned the faces of all the men as they came close. They were all various degrees of drunk, with a few of them stumbling already. She was grateful when someone turned the gramophone down, so Henry didn’t have to continue yelling.

“Today, the fucking jacks thought they could catch us off guard.” Phryne started, before remembering that ‘jack’ was a common term for police officers, alongside ‘coppers’. Henry continued, “but what they didn’t know, was that we had a little bird on our side. Someone who sang their plans to us before the pricks could make their move.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted from Henry to Phryne, and she inclined her glass slightly in acknowledgement. “It was my pleasure.”

Henry grinned, as did his men. “To Miss Fisher!”

He raised his glass, and his men followed suit with a chorus of “Miss Fisher!” sounding loud and clear. 

Henry then turned his gaze to Phryne, and raised his glass to her own. “To a new, prosperous partnership.”

“Here, here.” Phryne’s voice mixed with those of Henry’s men, who had begun to break away and continue their party now that the toast was over. Phryne clinked her glass against Henry’s, but made sure he drank before she did. She couldn’t be too careful, after all. The whiskey that hit her tongue wasn’t tampered with, but it sure was strong. Phryne could see why Henry and his men were so intoxicated after what she realised must have only been a few drinks. They would have started celebrating immediately after Bruns and his team left, and the trip to collect Phryne would have been half an hour at most. That meant the party had been going less than an hour; not enough time for weak alcohol to get them to their current state.

While she had been thinking, Henry had merely been staring at her. The intensity of his gaze was dimmed somewhat as a result of his drunkenness, but it was still strong. 

“I should get going,” Phryne said. She knew it would be of no use, but she had to at least pretend to put up a fight. “It’s very late.”

“Nonsense!” Henry grabbed her glass, and placed both it and his own on the table next to them. “The night’s young, Phryne! And you’re the guest of honour, you can’t leave yet.”

“Henry…” Phryne resisted as Henry grabbed her hands and pulled her closer to the gramophone. 

“Just one dance, Phryne, then you can leave.” From the grip on her hands, Phryne knew she had no choice. And you could learn a lot about a person from one dance, she reasoned. She could discover something important for her investigation. Or, at the very least, avoid drinking more of the strong whiskey. While she’d normally enjoy the alcohol, being drunk around this gang was the last thing she desired. 

“Very well, then.” Phryne acquiesced to Henry’s demands, and allowed him to sweep her into a dance. 

It ended up being more like simple swaying, with Henry’s hands on her back pulling her close and Phryne’s arms around his neck. It was entirely improper, and if she had been in this position with Henry’s double, Phryne knew she would have relaxed and enjoyed herself a lot more. As it was, however, she was careful and guarded. Not that Henry noticed; his face was beside her own, his lips close to her ear.

As the dance stretched on, Phryne found herself thinking more and more about Jack. She recalled the waltz they had shared in the ballroom of the Grand Hotel, not too long ago. While that had been absolutely delightful, Phryne wondered if she could convince Jack to dance with her like this, sometime.

The song that was playing ended, and Phyrne was about to pull away when Henry spoke. 

“Yesterday, you said you’d read that I had a wife. You claimed it wasn’t true.” Henry pulled his head back to look her in the eyes. “How did you know it wasn’t?”

Phryne shrugged. “No wedding band, no public record of a marriage. Of course, you could have hidden it well, but you’re a man that doesn’t shy away from being in the public eye.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You attempted to kill Long Harry Slater in broad daylight. And rather than quietly getting rid of a rival two-up school, you decided to blow the whole building up.” Phryne tried to contain the shiver that ran up her spine as she recalled Henry’s deeds. It was a swift reminder of who, exactly, she was dancing with.

“You’ve done your research on me.” Rather than look irritated, Henry actually looked impressed. 

“I thought it was only fair,” Phryne countered.

Henry smirked, and drew her closer. Phryne worried for a moment that he would try to kiss her, but luckily the moment passed. They were quiet for a few minutes, while the crowd around them continued to get more rambunctious as the night stretched on.

“Did your research tell you I’ve got dozens of coppers in my pocket?” Henry’s voice was soft as it broke through the silence; his words were for her ears only. “Did it tell you I can change the opinion of any jury in this state? That I can do anything I want, and no one can stop me?”

Henry’s gaze was hot and striking. If Phryne was the kind of person to back down from a challenge, she would have been running for the hills. But she wasn’t, and had never been. So she stood her ground, and matched Henry’s strong stare with one of her own.

“Did your research tell you that with every murder I solve, I get another file of blackmail material I can hold over someone’s head? Did it tell you that I’ve amassed a fortune greater than anything my Lord and Lady parents could ever hope to own? That I could bring you down with nothing more than the right word to the right person, and you couldn’t stop me?”

It was clear from Henry’s tight grip on her hips that she had gotten his full attention. They had stopped swaying, and were merely holding each other in the middle of the rest of the celebration. The lust in Henry’s eyes was palpable - Phryne had guessed correctly when she had assumed he would be excited by her threats, not angered. She needed him to want her around and on his side for her plan to work well. And it seemed like he did.

“I own this town, Phryne,” Henry whispered. “I could share it with you, if you’ll let me.”

Phryne made a point of pausing, as if to consider his offer. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Henry smirked, and inched his face closer to her’s. Just as their lips made contact, there was a loud crash from the other side of the room. They jerked apart, and Phryne swivelled to see what had happened. From what she could gather, one of the men had passed out and hit both a chair and a table on the way down. The bottle he’d been holding has smashed as it dropped to the ground, spilling glass and beer everywhere. Phryne thanked the stars for the perfect distraction.

“I think I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” Phryne looked back at Henry to see him glaring at the man on the ground. At her words, he shifted his gaze back to her. “Thank you for the party, Henry.”

“Of course, Phryne.” Henry’s voice was strained, and Phryne surmised that he was speaking through clenched teeth in an effort not to raise his voice. “Stop by when you can; we have plenty to discuss.”

Phryne nodded, before she removed herself from his arms. She made her way through the crowd, and as she reached the door, she heard Henry begin to explode behind her. She had no intention to stay for those fireworks. Phryne pushed the door open, and stumbled out onto the street. There waiting for her, as she knew they would be, were Bert and Cec. They helped her into the cab, made sure she was settled, and took off into the night.

\------------

Phryne didn’t return to Henry’s bar the next day as she presumed Henry and his men would still be recovering from the party. Instead, she waited until Saturday. She believed it was a reasonable enough time to wait; it demonstrated to Henry that she had other things going on, but that she was also serious about their partnership.

On Saturday, they kept things professional as they outlined the details of their partnership. For every tip Phryne provided Henry about the movement of the police, she would receive a cut of his profits. As much as she wanted to demand to know about his shipments and gambling schedule, Phryne knew it would be too suspicious. She was simply going to have to swing by the bar more often, and slowly integrate herself into the operation. Henry didn’t mention his offer to share the town with her, and Phryne wondered if he even recalled saying it. Perhaps it had been the whiskey talking, more than the man.

Over the next two weeks, Phryne put her plan into action. Jack called her with tips, even ones that didn’t directly involve Henry, and in turn she relayed them to the gangster in question. Then, he would make sure she was well paid when her information proved useful, which it almost always did. She donated all of the money she earned to various charities throughout the city, discreetly of course. Finally, she made a point to hang around the bar as often as she could. She did it under the pretense of remaining close to Henry, but in actuality she kept her ear to the ground and tried to learn as much as she could about his business. When she couldn’t be there, she stationed either Bert or Cec inside, and they did their best to listen and learn.

It was slow going; Henry was indeed a smart man. He was incredibly careful about what information he shared. Phryne was sure that if she committed to him and their partnership, she could learn a lot more. But even she wasn’t willing to go that far. And she was determined to not cross that line with Henry if she could avoid it.

Finally, when it seemed like the investigation was going absolutely nowhere, Phryne heard a whisper of a secret ledger. At least, she assumed it was a secret. If it wasn’t, it meant that the police simply hadn’t seized it in any of their raids, and Phryne couldn’t imagine that to be the case. As she was entering the bar one afternoon, she overheard Miles mention that Henry was “noting the delivery in his precious book”. 

While it could have been nothing, Phryne convinced herself that it had to mean something. It was the first real evidence she had come across that could lead to a solid police investigation. That night, Phryne called Jack and told him about the book.

“And you’ve seen the book?” Jack asked.

“Well, not exactly.” Phryne winced. She had hoped Jack wouldn’t question her too thoroughly on this.

“Not exactly, or no?” Phryne could almost see the smirk on Jack’s face as he caught her lie.

“No, I haven’t seen it. Gold star for you, Jack.” Phryne rolled her eyes as Jack laughed quietly. “But the way Miles spoke about it, it has to mean something. And I bet it’s stashed at the bar. All we need to do is find it.”

“We?”

“Well you did say you’d feel better if you were with me in this investigation, Jack.” Phryne countered. “Besides, if we’re caught in the bar in the early hours of the morning by one of Henry’s men, they won’t question it.”

“Because they’ll assume it’s you and Stokes?” Jack sounded weary. “Why does that not bring me comfort?”

“Jack.” Phryne reprimanded. “Are you with me on this or not?”

Jack sighed. “Of course I am. When’s the break-in?”

“Give me a few days to work out when the bar empties at night. Then I’ll let you know.” Phryne felt her excitement building. While it probably wasn’t the best idea to bring Jack along, she couldn’t help but want him there. It had been too long since their last break-in. “This is going to be fun, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all I have to say I've written for some other fandoms (both on this account and another) and while everyone has been respectful and kind, the readers for this fic in particular have been the absolute loveliest and most supportive I've ever had! Every time I get an email saying someone has left kudos or a comment, it makes my heart go wild haha. I really hope you keep enjoying the fic, and it doesn't let anyone down.
> 
> Also sorry if the end of this chapter felt like it skipped ahead too fast. I really wanted to keep the story (and my own motivation) moving, and I thought that was the best way to do it. I have an idea in mind for a bonus chapter that I might upload after the final chapter, set during that two week period where Phryne is getting to know Stokes and his operation, but we'll see if it pans out. 
> 
> All the best! xo
> 
> P.S I hate when people describe a brave person as "having balls", but it felt like something Stokes would say/think. I initially had put that he considered Phryne to have a spine, but it didn't fit. Just thought I'd mention that haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Monday 2nd December, 1929**

“That’s another win for me, boys!” Phryne laughed as she swept the pot toward her. The other men at the table, one of whom was Miles, all groaned. She had beaten them for the second round in a row. While Phryne would tell anyone it was because of her immaculate two-up skills, the truth was that she had bribed the dealer, Rob, before the night had gotten underway. She made peace with that fact by remembering that these were criminals she was playing with, and that to cheat was the same as playing fair.

“That’s it, I’m done for the night.” Miles collected the chips he still owned, then stood. Phryne glanced around, and saw that, thankfully, they were the last people in the bar. “Rematch soon, Miss Fisher?”

“I look forward to it.” Phryne smiled up at the stout man. As much as he was a stubborn man, Phryne much preferred his company to some of the other men in Henry’s employ. They held a mutual respect for each other; she respected him for still playing against her despite knowing she was likely cheating, and he respected her for cheating and getting away with it in the first place.

The other men also grumbled goodbyes as they followed Miles’ lead. Rob winked at her as he packed up, and Phryne made sure to slide a few chips over to him as a thank you. The dealer nodded his thanks, before taking his leave as well. Phryne had made a show of being the last one in the bar for the last few nights, so no one thought twice about leaving her there alone. She quickly did a sweep of the rest of the place, just to make sure there were no stragglers. Once she was confident of her solitude, she made her way to a hidden cupboard near the back entrance. She opened it with a flourish to reveal a not very impressed Jack Robinson. 

“Two hours, Miss Fisher.” Jack’s voice was stern as he stepped out of the small space. “I’ve been stuck in there for two hours.”

“My apologies Jack,” Phryne smiled. “I couldn’t exactly demand everyone leave so my policeman friend could come out.”

Jack frowned at her, but Phryne knew he didn’t mean it. His eyes were far too bright for that. “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

Jack moved away from her, and Phryne grinned as she followed. It was always fun to have him along when she broke in somewhere. Although this wasn’t technically a break-in, it gave Phryne a rush all the same. Having an accomplice always made lawbreaking more fun, and it was only elevated when that accomplice was Jack. Stern, respectable, police inspector Jack.

“Now, you said you hadn’t actually seen the ledger.” Jack said as he moved through the room, searching under the various tables and chairs. “Do you have any idea where it could be?”

As much as Phryne wanted to lie, so that the investigation would take all night, she knew she couldn’t be that stupid. They were risking a lot by being here together, and to drag things out just so she could spend more time with Jack would be a foolish thing to do. And Phryne wasn’t a fool.

“I imagine it’s in his office,” Phryne answered as she led Jack over to the small room. “I suspect he would want to keep it close.”

“This is his office?” Jack looked skeptical as they moved past the open curtains. He turned up his nose, and Phryne tried not to laugh at the ridiculous look on his face. Jack wasn’t a jealous man, but it had been clear as the days went passed that he didn’t like the idea of her spending more and more time with his double. To see him take satisfaction from the fact that Henry’s office was a lot less official and less well kept than his own almost made Phryne burst out laughing. Men.

“Behave yourself, Jack.” Phryne touched his arm lightly as she swept past. She moved to the other side of Henry’s desk, and inspected the drawers carefully. As she attempted to open the top drawer, Jack walked over to stand next to her. 

Phryne abruptly realised just how much she had missed being near him. They had only talked over the telephone for two weeks now, and to suddenly have him so close, to smell the unique musk that was all him, was overwhelming. She turned her head to look at him, only to find Jack was already staring at her. His blue-grey eyes were filled with such fondness, and Phryne felt her heart swell. It was an emotion she had never seen in his counterpart’s eyes. How the two men could be so similar, yet so different, Phryne would never know.

“We should try and open these drawers without breaking the locks.” Phryne couldn’t help but keep her voice low and quiet. It was almost as if a spell had been cast over them, and the slightest sound or movement would break it.

“Yes, we should,” Jack agreed, although he made no move to do so. If Phryne hadn’t been paying such close attention, she would have missed the minute flick of Jack’s gaze down toward her lips. Phryne wondered briefly what had come over him; he was normally unflappably professional when they were on a case. Had he really been so affected by their distance? Had she?

They simply stared at each other for a few moments longer, neither willing to make the first move. If it had been anyone else, Phryne wouldn’t have hesitated. But it was different with Jack - he was different. There were stakes when he was involved, and she would be putting her heart on the line in a way she didn’t with other men. Phryne still, even after everything they had been through together, didn’t truly know if she was willing to take that leap.

Thankfully, or not thankfully as Phryne would later recall, loud shouting suddenly erupted on the street outside. She and Jack jerked out of their reverie, and listened intently.

“I don’t care who the fuck they were, just fucking find them!” Phryne recognised Henry’s voice instantly. She felt anxiety flood her as she looked at Jack. Henry couldn’t find him here.

“Stokes?” Jack asked, his voice quick and quiet. 

Phryne nodded. “Bert and Cec were meant to keep him distracted.”

“That clearly didn’t work.” 

“Clearly.” Phryne rolled her eyes. She had sent Bert and Cec down to the docks earlier that evening, where a shipment of whiskey was coming in. The plan was to cause enough chaos that would draw Henry from the bar. It had worked initially, as Phryne hadn’t seen him all night, but Phryne had warned them to get out if they needed to. It must have gotten too dangerous, leading to Bert and Cec abandoning the plan. While Phryne couldn’t blame them, she wished they had been able to continue the ruse for a little longer.

Henry’s voice was getting louder, which meant he was getting closer. Phryne took one final look at Jack, before making her decision.

“Hide under the table,” Phryne ordered as she made her way to the curtains. “I’ll take care of him.” 

“Phryne-” The concern in Jack’s voice almost made her pause, but she cut him off before he could continue.

“I’ll be fine Jack.” She pointed to the desk. “Now hide.”

It looked for a moment that Jack might continue to argue, but he acquiesced. And not a moment too soon, for as soon as his head disappeared under the desk, the front door of the bar was thrown open.

“I want them alive!” Henry yelled over his shoulder as he stormed into the bar. He threw the door closed behind him, and it shut with a bang loud enough to almost shake the foundations of the building. He tossed his rifle onto the nearest table, then he turned and saw Phryne standing in the middle of the room. The quick change on his face was almost scary as his expression switched from fire and fury to surprise and delight. “Phryne!”

“Henry.” Phryne inclined her head in acknowledgment as Henry made his way toward her. As much as Henry was one of the most hotheaded men she had ever encountered, he had never taken his anger out on her. For that, Phryne was grateful, although she knew if her ruse was ever to be discovered, the gangster wouldn’t be so careful about controlling himself. She was only on his good side for as long as she was useful.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this late visit?” Henry stopped within arms distance, and Phryne was disappointed that she couldn’t smell any alcohol on him. Not that she had expected it, but it would have made it far easier to distract him if he was intoxicated.

“I think you’ll find it’s actually an early visit.” Phryne smiled conspiratorially. By her estimate, it was close to three in the morning.

Henry made a show of checking his pocket watch before responding. “And so it is.”

As he put his watch away, Phryne flicked her eyes over to the desk. She couldn’t see any inch of Jack, which helped her relax. Her eyes moved back to Henry’s, and she found he was staring at her. The contrast of his blue-grey eyes being filled with a mix of desire and residual anger compared to the soft stare of Jack’s was incredible. The same eyes, the same colours, yet they couldn’t be more different. They couldn’t make her feel more different.

The silence continued, and Phryne realised Henry was still waiting for an explanation. So she launched into a completely fake one.

“I’ve come to tell you the police have once again set their sights on you. Bruns is apparently talking about having some of his boys follow you, and possibly try to get in here undetected.” While it was fake, it was nothing that Henry would be able to verify. And as much as he claimed he didn’t trust anyone, Phryne knew that over the past weeks, he had begun to trust her. Or, at the very least, he trusted her information.

It appeared to be sufficient, as Henry nodded. “That is interesting. I suppose I’ll have to look over my shoulder every now and then.” Before she could stop him, Henry began to move toward the office, towards Jack. Phryne felt her fear spike, and without thinking, she grabbed the front of his jacket so she could pull him back to her.

“Actually, there is something else.” Phryne ran her hands up and down Henry’s chest as she held him in place. He quickly responded by placing his hands low on her hips.

“Oh? And what might that be?” Henry lent his head toward her own, and Phryne could feel his breath on her face.

“I’m sure you realised that I could have delivered this information to you in a few hours, but I wanted to catch you alone.” Phryne forced herself to stay calm. She thought of Jack, and how hurt he was going to be by what she did next. But the hurt would pass, and he would be safe, and that was all that mattered.

“Are you propositioning me, Phryne?” Henry’s voice was quiet as he pressed himself closer.

Phryne hesitated for a single moment, before throwing herself in, head first. “Is it working?”

Henry grinned wildly, before he closed the distance between them. His lips were chapped from the cold Melbourne night air, and they dominated her own. His tongue quickly demanded entrance, and Phryne granted it. Henry’s hands were rough as they wrapped around her and pulled her close. In turn, Phryne buried her hands in his hair. She tugged slightly, and Henry moaned against her lips, as his hands wandered all over her back and buttocks. The worst part of it all was that Phryne knew she would have enjoyed herself if the circumstances, and more importantly, her partner, were different. 

After a few long moments of passion, Phryne began to feel Henry pulling her towards his office. He clearly intended to consummate their relationship on his desk. _Wouldn’t that be something,_ Phryne mused. But she cleared her mind of everything but her task, which was to get Henry away from there so Jack could find the ledger and get out of the building alive.

“As much as your office would be … interesting,” Phryne pulled her mouth away and tugged on Henry’s jacket to stop him from moving. “Surely you have somewhere more comfortable we could go?”

“Anything for the Honourable Lady.” Henry laughed. He disentangled himself from her, then grasped her hand tightly in his own. To Phryne’s immense relief, he pulled her away from his office, and towards the stairs hidden near the back. As he led her upstairs, Phryne looked over her shoulder. She couldn’t see Jack, but somehow, she knew he was watching. She tried to look as apologetic as possible, before disappearing with Henry.

Jack would understand, Phryne convinced herself. He had to.

\----------------

Meanwhile, under the desk, Jack was desperately trying to stay as still and quiet as possible without gagging. His head knew that Phryne was distracting Stokes, and that he shouldn’t feel jealous, but his heart couldn’t deny how much it hurt hearing the woman he loved kiss another man. Especially when that man, for some reason, shared his face.

When he heard them begin to move away, he angled his head out from under the desk, just so he could see them. He caught Phryne’s apologetic look from the stairs, and it worked to placate him slightly. He took a deep breath, before pushing his turbulent emotions to the side. Phryne was doing her job, and he had to do his. Jack dragged himself upright, and began attempting to open the drawers of the desk.

The top drawers on either side were open, but contained nothing of importance. The others were locked, and Jack didn’t bother attempting to open them. He knew he couldn’t open them without a skilled lock-pick, and unfortunately the only reliable one he knew had just been taken away from him by one of Melbourne’s most notorious gangsters.

Jack abandoned the desk, and searched the entire office. He was just about to give up hope, when the floor behind Stokes’ chair creaked under his weight. Jack dropped to his knees, and ran his hands over the carpet. At last, he found an almost imperceptible section where he could dig in his fingernail, and lift the carpet up. Underneath, he found a loose floorboard, and upon lifting it out of the way, he discovered a small red notebook. It was only slightly larger than his hand, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Smuggling this out was going to be much easier than he had anticipated. 

He moved the floorboard and carpet back to the positions in which he found them, and stowed the book in his inside jacket pocket. He was about to make his way through the bar to the front entrance, when he stopped himself. Exiting that way would be an excellent way to reveal himself to Stokes’ men. While Phryne hadn’t discussed how they were going to make their escape, Jack guessed it was going to be through the same back entrance she had used to smuggle him in earlier that night. 

As he turned away from the front door, Jack caught sight of a large rifle lying on one of the tables. If Jack had been the type to swear, he would have let out a string of curses. Why had he agreed to let Phryne mingle with this crowd? It was dangerous, and reckless, and downright stupid. In his heart he knew that Phryne would have gone ahead with her plan, regardless of his opinion, but that thought didn’t help as much as he needed it to. The book in his possession, however, did help, as it reminded him that everything would be over soon. He’d make sure of it.

Jack found the back entrance quickly, but before he snuck out, he hesitated. He wondered briefly if he should stay and help Phryne, or at least stick around in case she needed help. But he dismissed the idea almost immediately. Phryne wasn’t in danger, and if she was, she could handle herself. Regardless, if he was caught in or near Stokes’ bar, especially with the ledger in his possession, he would be a dead man. 

Despite his heart screaming at him to stay, Jack cracked open the door. After checking to make sure there was no one to see him, Jack forced himself to exit the building, and make the long trek back to the police station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn't exactly what some of you were hoping for/predicted, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! The next chapter picks up during the next morning, and we shall see how the rest of Phryne's night went (hint: it might not be what you think ...) Hope you're all well and staying safe, all the best!


	7. Chapter 7

**Tuesday 3rd December, 1929**

_“Phryne.” Henry’s voice sounded behind her as she descended the stairs. She stopped, and Henry caught up to her. “I’ll drive you home.”_

_Phryne tried not to show her discomfort. “Thank you, Henry, but I believe I’ll manage.”_

_Henry came closer, and it took everything within Phryne to stand her ground and not back away. “I’ll drive you.”_

_His determined tone left no room for argument, and Phryne was too exhausted to even bother. It had been a long day, and Henry was already moving towards the door. At any other time, Phryne wouldn’t have followed him. She would have pushed past him, refused to give him what he wanted. But damn her, all she wanted was to go home. To curl up in bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Then, she could get up and visit Jack, and see what he had found._

_Henry held the door open for her, and Phryne entered his car gracefully. He didn’t ask for her address, and she didn’t offer it. He kept one hand on the wheel; the other was on her thigh. It was a sign of possession, but Phryne refused to let herself feel possessed. From Henry, it was a sign of insecurity, as was the show of driving her home. She hadn’t given him what he desired, but he wouldn’t let it faze him. Phryne was sure that in his mind, they were as good as together._

_Finally, they arrived at 221B, The Esplanade, St Kilda. Henry removed his hand from her leg, and Phryne controlled herself and her movements as she slowly exited the vehicle. She knew his eyes were on her as she made her way past the gate, up the path, and into the safety of her home. The sun had already risen, but Phryne had never felt colder._

\---------------

“Jack!” Phryne called as she entered the police station around midday. The strong coffee Mr Butler had made her that morning had started to work on the drive over, and Phryne was feeling better and more alive already. Although she couldn’t wait until she could get a full night of sleep again; she missed it terribly.

“Miss Fisher,” Jack called from his office, “come in!”

As Phryne entered the room, Jack stood. He wasn’t smiling, but his expression was soft and gentle. Phryne smiled for both of them, and moved to his side. It was then that she saw what was open on his desk. 

“Jack,” Phryne gasped. “Please tell me this is what I think it is.”

“It is.” 

Delight spread through Phryne like a bushfire on dry grass. She reached out and grasped the small book, taking care to be as gentle as she could. She scanned the page; it was clearly a ledger of various monetary transactions, both incoming and outgoing. Phryne looked at Jack to see a satisfied grin on his face.

“I imagine you’ve already cross-referenced this with files from the taxation department?” From the amount of notes scattered on Jack’s desk, she could guess his answer. But she wanted to hear the confirmation from him, nonetheless.

“I have, and none of it lines up. Looks like our gangster friend has some explaining to do.” Jack gestured to the mess before them. “I’ve already copied out the most important details, so we can have the ledger back before Stokes’ even realises it’s missing.”

 _Oh Jack, I could kiss you,_ was what Phryne wanted to say. Instead what passed her lips was “I’m impressed, Jack.”

To her surprise, Phryne saw a small blush spread over Jack’s cheekbones. He had always been a good Detective, long before Phryne came along. She was sure that if he had put his mind to it, he would have gotten this evidence himself. In her head, she complimented herself as well, as she had been the one to push for the undercover operation and she had been the one to hear about the ledger in the first place. But she loved making Jack blush, so she kept the praise focused on him.

“I should remind you that I would never have been able to get this without your help, Miss Fisher.” Jack turned to her, and the corners of his lips twitched up. There were times when Phryne did wonder if he could read her mind, and this moment was no exception. She wouldn’t compliment herself in front of him now, so he did it for her. Not for the first time, the thought of how well suited they were crossed Phryne’s mind.

“If you insist,” Phryne grinned. “We make a good team.”

“Yes, we do,” Jack agreed. His face turned slightly more solemn as he continued, however. “Unfortunately our job isn’t done yet.”

“No,” Phryne grimaced. She placed the book back on the table, and retreated to the other side of Jack’s desk. She couldn’t think with him standing so close. As she sat, so did Jack. “Although, between this and the information we have on the alcohol shipments and gambling schedule, surely that’ll be enough for a conviction.”

Jack sighed, and Phryne noticed that he wouldn’t meet her eye. “Maybe. It’s enough for an arrest and search warrant, but Stokes’ is slippery. He should have been convicted years ago, yet he remains a free man.”

As much as she didn’t want to, Phryne had to agree with him. “He once boasted that he could change the opinion of any jury in the state. It could have just been his ego talking, but we have to assume it’s true.”

Jack nodded, and finally lifted his gaze to meet her own. “It’s not going to be easy, Miss Fisher. And there’s every chance things could go wrong.”

Phryne bit back the confident sentence she wished to say, and forced herself to think through everything properly. Jack was right, of course. They could do everything by the book, and have Henry arrested. But the conviction would be almost out of their hands, and history was against them. And if Henry was to walk free, he would certainly ascertain the level of Phryne’s involvement, then she and all of her friends would be in grave danger. The ruse would be up, with no way for Phryne to claw her way back into his good graces. 

Then again, what else was there left to do? They had conducted a proper undercover investigation, and were staring at the fruits of their labour. All they had to do was cross the finish line, and this nightmare would be over.

“I have to believe we’ll succeed, Jack.” Phryne’s voice was softer than she had intended it to be, and she could tell Jack had noticed. Regardless, she pushed on through. “We’ll make it impossible for him to get away this time.”

Jack appeared bolstered by her confidence, as if he had needed her to remind him of his own determination and conviction. 

“I’ll begin coordinating with some of my detectives then.” Jack pulled a map out from under the mess of papers. “We’ll conduct all of the raids in one night. Hitting Stokes hard and fast is the only way we can make sure he won’t be able to prepare.” 

Jack pointed to a few places on the map; the docks where the shipments of alcohol came in, an apartment block where Phryne had discovered several of Henry’s men resided, a warehouse where the alcohol was stored before it was moved to the bar, and finally Henry’s bar itself. Phryne nodded every time Jack moved his finger. There might be other buildings Henry owned and used, but these were the main points of his empire from what Phryne had been able to deduce. Even if Henry was able to get out of a jail sentence, they would have dismantled a large portion of his business, making it harder for him to wreak the same amount of havoc as he had been.

Phryne sat back in her chair, her confidence growing immensely, as well as her relief. “I must say, it’s nice to finally see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.”

“Had enough of the gang world already, Miss Fisher?” Jack joked, but Phryne couldn’t bring herself to laugh with him. She had seen some truly horrific things during the war, but some of the things she had seen and heard about while in Henry’s bar … They had rocked her to her core. She would be glad to wash her hands of the man and his business once and for all. 

Jack cleared his throat, which brought Phryne out of her thoughts. From the guilty look on his face, it was obvious he had realised he’d made a mistake. Phryne didn’t blame him, of course, but she was grateful when he changed the subject. 

“The ledger,” Jack quickly grabbed it from his desk, “we have to return it before Stokes’ notices it’s missing. I have a plan, but I need you to make sure he’s out of the bar tomorrow night.”

While normally Phryne would have insisted that she return the ledger, she was still too deep in her own thoughts to begin contemplating arguing. And from the hard look on Jack’s face, there would be no point anyway. “I can do that. What are you going to do?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” The twinkle in his eye told Phryne he already had a plan, but that he didn’t want to burden her as she had now her own plan to contend with. 

“I look forward to hearing about it.” Phryne forced herself to smile as she dragged her consciousness back into the present. “I’ll have Henry out of the bar before eight and will try to keep him occupied for at least two hours. I trust that should be enough time for you to do whatever you must.”

“It will be.” Jack shifted in his seat as his confidence wavered. “And I’m sure you have plenty of ideas about how to keep him occupied.”

Jack wasn’t often jealous, but Phryne could hear it seeping through with every word he spoke. It was all she could do not to laugh. Besides, she was planning to tell him the truth eventually; why not now?

“Oh, Jack.” Phryne stood and made her way to the door. “You should know, Henry and I didn’t sleep together.”

“No?” Jack’s eyes brightened as he gazed up at her.

“We were about to, but apparently I said the wrong name, and that put him off.”

“And, uh,” Jack coughed, “what name would that have been?”

“Why, Jack, of course.”

Phryne laughed as she heard Jack’s knee connect with the bottom of his desk as his leg jerked. She left him with that mental image swimming around in his brain as she turned and glided out of his office. The sun hit her face as she exited the station, and worked to warm her from the outside-in as she made her way to her hispano. 

It was the truth, whether or not Jack believed her. As much as Phryne hated herself for it, she had committed to being with Henry if it guaranteed Jack would be able to escape the bar safely. But the only way she knew she would get through it was to imagine a different man with her, one with the same face but who was contrasting in every way that mattered. Apparently it had seeped through, and she had said his name aloud for Henry to hear. While he hadn’t truly lost his temper, at least not in the way she had seen him when he dealt with some of his men, it had been frightening. 

The desire in his eyes had turned to ice, yet he had seemed to take it as a challenge. He’d remarked on how, when Phryne eventually gave herself to him, there would be no confusion in her as to who her heart belonged to. Phryne had dressed quickly, and tried to leave Henry behind. But he had caught her on the stairs, and all but demanded to drive her home. It was partially why she had driven herself to the station today, despite Mr Butler offering to be her chauffeur. 

This was almost over, Phryne reminded herself as she started the engine. And when it was, she was determined to drive herself everywhere for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end, only two chapters to go! Just a heads up though, I might have to delay posting them. I've got a major assignment due on Friday that unfortunately has to take priority. Hopefully I won't have to delay, but it looks likely. I'm incredibly sorry, and I wish I could have had everything written and prepared so I could post everything on time. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you're all doing well and staying safe, and I'll see you when I see you! All the best xo


	8. Chapter 8

**Wednesday 4th December, 1929**

As the hours ticked by, Stokes felt his frustration growing. Even with all of his resources, all of his manpower, he still hadn’t been able to find those fucking pricks that caused chaos at the docks on Monday night. All his men had been able to come up with was that some of them recognised the blokes, and reckoned that they had been hanging around the bar recently. Fat lot of good that did him, Stokes fumed. It got him no closer to being able to identify the men and take them out.

On top of all of that, he hadn’t seen or heard from Phryne since he had driven her home that night. The hand that was resting on his desk clenched into a fist as he recalled finally having her exactly where he wanted her, exactly where he assumed she wanted to be, only for her to say the name of that shithead copper Robinson. As he looked back, he knew he should have continued on, should have fucked her so thoroughly she forgot that pissant ever existed. But it had thrown him off his game, and he’d allowed her to leave without thinking twice about it. Not that he would ever force himself on her - he was a gentleman in that regard, of course - but it tore at him to realise he may never get that chance again. Not with the way she’d been avoiding him since.

He’d finally let himself consider a future where she stood by his side, running his empire with him. He had thought about the possibility a few times since she had sauntered into his bar and offered a partnership, but he hadn’t truly believed it could be a reality until she was standing there in his arms, kissing him as intently as he’d been kissing her. His heart had swelled, and he’d been confident that she was finally going to merge her resources with his own, a feat that would ensure no one would ever be able to touch them. Then it had all come crashing down, with one simple name. 

Stokes stood abruptly. Dusk was settling outside, and soon his patrons would begin traipsing in. He needed to clear his head. He had just finished doing a check around the bar, making sure that everything was in place, when he heard his telephone begin to ring. Stokes made his way back into his office, at the same time as his dealers entered the bar and began setting up for the night ahead. He had no doubt the call would be something stupid and useless, so he didn’t bother putting on a facade of professionalism or politeness.

“What?” Stokes spat into the telephone as he sat himself at his desk.

“Bad time?” Phryne’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, and Stokes felt all the tension in his chest vanish. Of course, the conversation could still spiral badly, but even hearing her voice helped to placate his fears and troubles immensely.

“Not at all.” Stokes didn’t know why he bothered lying. Phryne had proven from the moment they met that he would never be able to slip anything past her. But lying came as easily to him as breathing, so he hadn’t stopped to think. It was no matter, he told himself, as it wasn’t a complete lie after all. Nothing truly bothered him as long as she was around. “What can I do for you, Phryne?”

There was a pause, and Stokes knew Phryne was contemplating pushing the issue. Thankfully, she left it be. “I’m calling to invite you to dinner tonight.” 

Stokes should have been embarrassed at the way his heart leapt at her request. It was something so simple, yet it was all he needed to hear. “I’m honoured, my dear. Where would you like to go?”

“I believe you know the address.” Stokes could almost see the smile on Phryne’s face. 

“Your house?” Stokes sat back, amused. “I wouldn’t think a respectable lady such as yourself would want to be seen entertaining a lawbreaker such as myself.”

“The neighbours can think what they like,” Phryne huffed. “I’ve never lowered myself to worry about their views on myself and my activities, and I’ll be damned if I start now.”

Stokes felt his smile grow wide. Phryne truly was like no other woman he’d ever met. He had to be careful; there was no way he was letting her get away from him. “That’s very admirable.”

“Thank you.” Phryne’s voice was clipped, and Stokes suddenly realised that she didn’t care one bit about his opinion of her. She was far too sure of herself for that, and Stokes found his admiration growing. “Eight o’clock, don’t be late.”

Before Stokes could offer anything else, the line went dead. He laughed as he placed the telephone back in its cradle. He then checked his pocket watch; six thirty. That left him with just over an hour to get ready. Stokes exited his office and passed through the bar. After quickly explaining to Jonno that he was not to be disturbed, he made his way upstairs to bathe and change. After all, it wouldn’t do to dine with a lady, looking and smelling as he did. 

Just before a quarter to eight, Stokes headed downstairs. He pulled Jonno aside once more and told him where he was going, and that he was in charge of closing up the bar. From the way Jonno merely nodded, Stokes knew he would likely forget. But there was no time to consider an alternative plan. Stokes emerged from his bar, feeling sanitised and well-groomed; not a hair out of place and his beard completely grown back. Not wanting to waste another moment, Stokes jumped into his car and took off, headed for St Kilda.

The anticipation built steadily in his chest as he drove closer and closer to Phryne’s house. He wasn’t only excited to see her, but also to step inside the magnificent house he had, until now, only seen from the outside. He tried not to see it as a metaphor for Phryne opening her life to him.

Finally, he arrived. Stokes pulled up outside 221B, and took a moment to compose himself before stepping out his car. With each step he took, the felt nerves begin to fester within him. He was a criminal, a patron of the underworld. He didn’t fit in this neighbourhood. Henry Stokes rubbed shoulders with the worst of the worst; he didn’t have dinner in a fancy house surrounded by other fancy houses. And yet, that could easily become his reality, Stokes mused. To at least partially return to polite society … now that would be a gas.

Stokes reached Phryne’s front door, and knocked soundly. He waited for a few moments, before the door swung open to reveal an older man sporting a neat three-piece, black suit. He didn’t seem at all surprised.

“Good evening, Mr Stokes,” the man gestured behind him. “Please come in.”

Stokes nodded at the man, clearly a servant of some kind, as he passed. As he entered what appeared to be a small foyer, Stokes had to contain his amazement at the house. It wasn’t overly grand, yet it still screamed wealth everywhere he looked. To his left he could see a dining table with two places set; to his right, there was a parlour with various chairs and possessions scattered about. 

“Henry!” Phryne’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Stokes looked up to see her gracefully descending the stairs. She was stunning, and Stokes had to physically stop his jaw from opening. Phryne was wearing a spotless white dress that stopped just above her knees. It was sleeveless, exposing her upper arms and a fair portion of her chest. Her hands and forearms were covered with what Stokes assumed to be silk gloves, with her hair sporting a sleek silver headband that was almost a crown. Her feet were contained in polished black heels, a direct contrast to her dress.

She was, to put it plainly, the most beautiful woman Stokes had ever seen. It surprised Stokes to realise that the most prominent emotion he felt wasn’t, for once, lust, but rather pure, unadulterated adoration. 

While he had been drinking her in, Phryne had reached the bottom of the staircase. Stokes stepped forward and grasped her hand in his own. He brought it to his lips, without breaking eye contact. 

“Phryne,” Stokes’ voice was almost a deep growl, “you look ravishing.”

“Thank you, Henry.” For once, Stokes was convinced it was a genuine thank you. Phryne smiled at him as her gaze roamed his figure. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Stokes smirked. He was wearing what he considered to be his best suit - his jacket and trousers were a deep black, with shining black shoes. His vest was, for once, not sporting a pattern, but instead was the same black as his jacket and trousers. Although he did insist on wearing a patterned tie with thin black and red stripes. He thought it contrasted nicely with his stark white dress shirt. 

“Thank you. And thank you for the invitation to dinner.” Henry smiled wickedly. “I was beginning to think I would never set foot in here.”

“Well I have been in your world for long enough.” Phryne gestured around them. “I thought it was about time I introduced you to mine.”

_And what a world it is_ , Stokes thought to himself. He was about to comment on the decor when Phryne’s servant re-appeared. “Your dinner is ready, Miss Fisher.”

Stokes offered Phryne his arm as they followed the servant into the dining room. He made sure to pull Phryne’s chair out for her at the head of the table, before settling himself in the chair to her direct right. He had assumed they would be on opposite sides of the table for dinner, and so was pleasantly surprised to find the seating arrangements much more intimate. Not only were they sitting close, but there was also a lit candelabra on the table, providing a dim lighting for the evening. 

The servant brought in their meals - cranberry-orange roast ducklings, already carved - and left them be. The food smelt divine, and Stokes was suddenly very glad he had barely eaten all day. His mouth watered, but he stopped himself from eating before Phryne. When she had taken her first bite, Stokes allowed himself to start. The taste that hit his tongue was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He didn’t bother hiding his moan of delight, to which Phryne laughed. 

“What?” Stokes asked, his tone light.

“Nothing,” Phryne glanced at him, her eyes dancing with joy. “You’re not the first man to enjoy Mr Butler’s cooking.”

Mr Butler, Stokes thought. Surely that couldn’t be the poor servant’s name? Well, at the very least, he was in the right profession for it. Stokes moved past it, and focused on what Phryne had said. “Have a lot of men around, do you?”

“Yes,” Phryne answered plainly and honestly as she fixed her gaze to his own. “Does that bother you?”

Yes. “No,” Stokes forced a smile. “Not at all.”

“Good.” Phryne returned her attention to the meal in front of her, and Stokes followed suit.

After a few moments of silence, he slowly moved his hand below the table, and placed it gently on Phryne’s knee. Phryne, who had been cutting part of her duck, paused.

“Is this alright?” Stokes wouldn’t normally have asked, but he hadn’t expected Phryne to have such a physical reaction. He was about to remove his hand, when Phryne herself grasped it. Instead of moving it away from her, she boldly brought it further up her thigh.

“Now it is.” Phryne grinned immorally at him, and it was all Stokes could do to keep his impulses under control. This was certainly going to be an interesting evening.

\-------------

Back at Richmond, Jack Robinson found himself hesitating outside Stokes’ bar. He had seen the owner himself leave about ten minutes prior, and while he knew Phryne had promised to keep him occupied for at least two hours, there was no guarantee she would be able to. That meant that Jack had to be quick, and yet his feet still remained planted. 

He found it easy to dress appropriately - there were plenty of newspaper articles with photographs of Henry Stokes and his usual attire - but he had been stuck on how to recreate Stokes’ beard on such short notice. Less than two days wasn’t enough time for him to grow and style the facial hair after all. Fortunately, when he had asked Hugh for advice, the young man had brought up the makeup that was used in films these days. Jack had immediately called Raymond Hirsch, the owner of The Tuckerbag Film Studio. He and Phryne had solved a murder for Raymond, and Jack had also recorded a line for the man so he could finish a film on time. He figured Raymond owed him one.

Earlier that day, Raymond and a woman from one of his makeup teams had arrived at the station, and had gotten to work on applying a realistic beard on his face. They had warned him not to leave it on too long, or else it would begin to itch. ‘Too long’ had turned out to be thirty minutes, and it was taking every part of Jack’s self control to not rip the damn thing off. Although he had had to admit, as he checked his appearance before leaving through the back entrance of the station, that he had done well. With his hair slicked back, his faux beard in place, and his clothes more to the gangster’s style, Jack knew that no one who saw him would question who he was. 

The danger, however, came from someone talking to him. He had questioned several detectives and constables, including Detective Bruns, on how Stokes’ talked and behaved. They had all agreed that he was an angry man who hid it well until it exploded. A few of the constables had also confirmed that while Stokes spoke well, he also had a mouth on him that could rival any sailor. Jack decided to keep his sentences short and to try and avoid Stokes’ men if at all possible. He knew he would likely have to explain what he was doing back so soon, but apart from that, he hoped he could get in and out without incident.

The noise from within the bar seemed to be escalating in volume with each passing second, and Jack knew the time for hesitating had passed. He needed to get moving. He squared his shoulders, and emerged from the shadows to cross the road and enter the bar.

The sights, smells, and sounds that accosted him as he crossed the threshold were immediate and almost overwhelming. Tables upon tables filled the bar, with each one of them surrounded by men either gambling or drinking the night away. There was gasper smoke combined with the smell of whiskey, a combination that was truly unpleasant. Jack could also hardly hear himself think over the extraordinarily loud voices of the men before him.

Thankfully, no one appeared to have noticed him. Jack slowly made his way across the bar, and into what he knew to be Stokes’ office. He pulled the curtains mostly closed behind him. While it could be seen as suspicious, Jack took a guess that Stokes wouldn’t want any of the patrons at the establishment watching as he removed and replaced his ledger. He quickly moved behind Stokes’ chair, and set about pulling back the carpet, moving the floorboard, and tucking the small ledger back into its place. 

Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he tugged the carpet back into position. The ledger was returned, and Stokes was none the wiser. However, he should have known not to congratulate himself so soon.

As Jack stood, he took in the large, imposing figure standing in the gap he had stupidly left in the curtains. The man was astonishingly tall, and had shoulders that were broader than most professional boxers. His expression was vacant, and Jack couldn’t tell if he was drunk or simply very confused. He also didn’t know if the man was one of Stokes’ henchmen, or if he was one of the patrons that had for some reason drunkenly followed Jack into the office. He decided to play it safe?

“What?” Jack spat at the man. He knew he should have moved closer, but the desk between them was giving him a small sense of safety.

“Boss?” The man asked, clearly confused. Well that answered his question, Jack mused. “Didn’t ya just leave?”

Jack thought quickly. He could say that he hadn’t left yet, but this man could have seen Stokes leave with his own eyes. To contradict that could cause problems. He decided to go with the answer he had made sure to prepare.

“I did, but now I’m back.” Jack gestured around the office. “Clearly.”

“Well, yeah,” the man agreed, “but ya said ya were going to that flapper’s place.”

Jack couldn’t help the stab of jealousy that erupted in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, and that he himself had asked Phryne to make sure Stokes was out of the bar tonight, yet it still hurt to know they were together, in her house no less. Jack cleared his throat, and his thoughts. This was no time to lose his concentration.

“And I still am.” Jack finally felt confident enough to step out from behind his desk, although he still kept a reasonable distance between himself and the large man. “I just had to take care of something, that’s all.”

The man squinted at him, and Jack suddenly realised how stupid he was to not involve Phryne in his little impersonation plan. Phryne had been rubbing shoulders with these men for weeks; she could have taught him everything there was to know about them, up to and including how to get them to go away. He reasoned that he didn’t want to burden her with worries about him while she was entertaining Stokes, but part of it was also his own damn pride. He had wanted to do this for her, and had been sure he could handle it alone. If he was to die here, alone, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive himself. He wasn’t sure _Phryne_ would ever be able to forgive him. He had to make it out alive.

“Ya, but …” The man continued speaking, and it worked to pull Jack out of his thoughts. “Ya mentioned how much ya wanted to fuck her, so I figured-”

Before he knew what he was doing, Jack had closed the distance between them and sent his fist flying. A crack resounded through the office as his punch made contact with the bottom of the man’s jaw, sending his head backwards. Pain exploded in Jack’s fist, at the same time as realisation at what he had done flooded every system in his body. 

The large man stumbled back, but didn’t go down. Instead, he brought his hand to his chin and rubbed it gently. Jack felt his heart pounding his chest as he tried to control his breathing. What had he done, _what had he done-_

“Sorry boss.” The man’s voice was so quiet Jack almost didn’t hear what he had said. The man glanced down at him quickly, before averting his gaze. Jack couldn’t believe his luck.

Jack stepped closer to the man, and craned his neck so the man would be able to hear him over the noise sounding from the rest of the bar. “Don’t ever let me catch you talking about Miss Fisher like that, do you understand?”

The man didn’t respond, choosing instead to merely nod his assent. Satisfied that he had covered himself and his actions adequately, Jack stepped around the man and reentered the main room of the bar. No one had reacted to the small scuffle, for which he was immensely grateful. Jack weaved through the tables, not making eye contact with anyone. He all but burst through the front door, glad to finally be breathing relatively fresh air. Not wanting to hang around and push his luck any further tonight, Jack began making his way to where he had parked his car, a few blocks away. As he walked, he ripped the faux beard off his face. It stung, but it no longer itched. He took a deep breath as he all but collapsed into the driver’s seat of his car. Just the raids to go, he reminded himself. Then it would all be over.

\--------------

The rest of dinner had passed without much fanfare, as Stokes and Phryne ate their exquisite meals in relative silence. She didn’t remove his hand from her thigh, and Stokes took it as a positive sign. But he couldn’t help but feel as though the night was not going to run the course that he had expected when he had received her telephone call earlier that evening. He couldn’t truly explain how he knew what he knew, but from the little conversation they had throughout the dinner, a feeling settled in his chest that was simply contentment. He realised he was happy to just exist in Phryne’s company. Of course, if she invited him upstairs, he would have no objections.

After they had both finished, Phryne invited him into the parlour where she poured them both a small amount of whiskey. Stokes sipped it quietly as he settled on one of the lounges, and was delighted to find it was just as good as the best brand they served at his bar. Although, he mused, had he really expected anything less? 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come tonight,” Phryne interrupted his thoughts as she sat down beside him. She was close enough that he could feel the heat from her body, but too far to suggest anything too intimate. 

“I wasn’t late, was I?” Stokes asked, despite knowing with absolute certainty that he had arrived exactly when he was meant to. 

“No, you arrived on time.” Phryne smiled at him, yet there was a somber feeling behind it. “I suppose I was worried something more important would come up.”

Stokes couldn’t immediately place the feeling that consumed him at Phryne’s words. Finally, with a jolt, he realised it was heartache. He longed for her so intently, and it cut him to his core to discover that she didn’t know just how important she was to him. He wanted to take her in his arms, to never let her go, to make sure no one could ever harm her. Stokes had never felt that way about anyone before, and it terrified him. He thought about leaving now, not only Phryne’s house, but her life altogether. Of course, he never would; it would be more painful than anything he could imagine. 

“Nothing is more important to me than you, Phryne,” Stokes whispered. He leaned closer, and stared unflinchingly at the woman he so desperately cared about. 

“Not even your empire?” Phryne’s voice was also quiet, but Stokes heard her loud and clear.

“Not even that.” Stokes didn’t think before he spoke, and it startled him to realise just how true his words were. He hadn’t even concluded that himself, before now, and yet here he was, spewing his guts for Phryne to hear.

There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel strained. Stokes found himself waiting patiently for Phryne to process what he was saying. He contented himself with roaming his gaze all around her face; from her eyes, to her nose, to her cheeks, to her lips. She was astonishingly beautiful in every way.

“I don’t know what to say,” Phryne whispered.

“Then don’t say anything.”

Stokes slowly leaned in, giving Phryne every chance to pull back, to stop him. But she didn’t; instead, she came close as well. Their lips met gently. There was no rush, no overwhelming lust. It was two people sharing in their realisation at how deep their feelings ran. Or at least, that’s how it was for Stokes. He knew he would never truly know how Phryne felt, not unless she told him. And it didn’t seem that she would, but he found he didn’t mind. For as long as she would allow him to be close to her, he would survive. 

After a few moments, Phryne pulled back. She rested her forehead against his own, and Stokes felt as though he could breathe, genuinely breathe, for the first time in a long time. 

Just as he was about to either say something or close the gap again - he hadn’t decided - the sound of a lock turning resonated from the foyer. Before he could do anything, Phryne had stood and walked a few paces away from him. He tried not to feel hurt, but it still stung. As the two people who had arrived divested themselves of their coats and hats, Stokes stood. 

“Dot! Hugh!” Phryne sounded surprised. “I didn’t realise you would be home so soon!”

“Sorry, miss,” the young woman, who Stokes surmised was Dot, replied. “The picture was shorter than we thought, and it was too cold outside to go for a long walk.” 

“That’s quite alright.” Phryne smiled at the pair, and Stokes gathered rather quickly that she wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, he somehow knew that she was lying, and that Dot and Hugh had returned precisely when they were meant to. He couldn’t prove it of course, so he kept his mouth shut. Phryne turned and gestured toward him, so Stokes pulled himself out of his thoughts and stepped forward. “This is my friend Henry. Henry, this is my companion Dot, and her fiance Hugh.”

_Friend_. The word stung, and it was all Stokes could do to keep his annoyance from his face. Did Phryne regularly kiss her friends? Was their relationship no different to others? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Henry.” Dot said, although she made no movement to greet him formally. 

Stokes smirked. “Likewise.”

Silence followed, and this time it was awkward. The young man, Hugh, made no effort to acknowledge him at all, save for a brief wave of his hand. They obviously knew who he was, and weren’t bothering to hide their discomfort at his presence. As much as Stokes wanted to stay and revel in their distress, he knew it was time to take his leave.

“I’m afraid I should be off then, Phryne.” Stokes moved closer to Phryne, and grasped her hand gently in his own. He kissed her knuckles slowly and surely. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“You’re very welcome, Henry.” Phryne’s voice was neutral, yet he could see some enjoyment dancing in her eyes. She had clearly worked out that he was making a show for the new arrivals. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“I look forward to it.” Reluctantly, Stokes let go of her hand. He moved past Dot and Hugh, and exited the house quickly. 

As he made his way down the path and out of the gate, Stokes tried not to let his frustration overwhelm him. He didn’t know exactly where the night would have gone if those two idiots hadn’t returned, but it certainly would have been more enjoyable than him leaving alone after kissing Phryne so slowly and gently. He could still feel the heat of her lips on his own.

Stokes climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, and started the engine. As he pulled out into the street, he thought about the feeling he had had when Dot and Hugh returned. As though Phryne was expecting it, as though it was all perfectly timed. He didn’t know what it meant, and he didn’t even know if he had read the situation correctly. But there was something off about the whole thing, and it pained him that he couldn’t figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, those couple of days between updates felt long huh? Almost felt like two whole weeks ... Isn't it funny how time just, stopped existing a while ago?? Alright all joking aside, I'm incredibly sorry about the delay. To give you some context, I had to submit two assignments, take one exam, and take part in a mock court trial as an expert witness (essentially answering questions over zoom for ten minutes while getting grilled by two "lawyers" lol), all in that time. And I've still got two exams and an assignment to go! Maybe starting this 9 chapter, almost 25K word fic during the final few weeks of the semester wasn't the best idea, but hey, I've definitely had worse lmao.
> 
> So yeah, I don't know when the final chapter will be up. It might be within the next week, it might be after a couple of weeks. I'm so sorry I can't give you an exact date, but I hope you can forgive me. I'm really excited to have this fic all done and posted, and I hope you're excited to see how it finished. I'll try not to disappoint!! All my love xo


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